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One

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THE CHILD
MANUELA

By CHRISTA WINSLOE

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CINEMA QUARTERLY

Edited by NORMAN WILSON Review Editor: FORSYTH HARDY

London Correspondent: PAUL ROTHA

Associate Correspondents : D. F. Taylor, J. S. Fairfax-Jones.

U.S.A.: Eric M. Knight. France: Alexander Werth. Holland:
J. Hulsker. Belgium: Ludo Patris. Czechoslovakia: Karel Santar.
India: R. K. Rele. Australia: Leon S.Stone. South Africa: H. R.
van der Poel. Ireland: G. F. Dalton. Japan: Shinko Mizuno.

And Correspondents in Russia, Germany, Italy and Scandinavia.

Vol. 2, No. 1. CONTENTS Autumn 1933

THE SPECTATOR. Norman Wilson ----- -2

THE FUNCTION OF THE PRODUCER. Michael Balcon

and John Gricrson ------- 5

THE CAMERA TURXS OX HISTORY. Philip Lindsay - 10

ALEXANDER KORDA AXD THE IXTERXATIOXAL

FILM. In an Inter 'view with Stephen Watts - - \1

THE COLOUR OF IT. Pennethorne Hughes - - -16

A WORKING PLAX FOR SUB-STANDARD. " Embfu" - 19

FRENCH MOVIE TO-DAY. D.F.Taylor- - 26

MISCELLANY. Clifford Leech, G. F. Dalton, Herbert Read,

N.W. ---.---- 30

FILMS OF THE QUARTER. Forsyth Hardy, Paul Rotha,

J .G., Ralph Bond, D. F. Taylor 37

THE FILM SOCIETIES - - - - - - -50

THE IXDEPEXDEXT FILM-MAKER. Eric M. Knight,

Donald Eraser, G.F.D., B.W. - - - - 61

Editorial and Publishing Offices : 24 N.W Thistle Street Lane, Edinburgh, 2.
Telephone: 20425. Telegrams: Tricolour, Edinbuigh.

London Advertising Agents: Gregory & M'Carthy, 32 Shaftesbury Avenue, W.l.

Telephone: Gerrard 64o6.

Subscription Rates : Great Britain, 4s. 6d. Abroad, 7s. 6d. Post free for one year.

All business communications should be addressed to t/te Manager, G. D. Robinson.

THE SPECTATOR

A year ago Cinema Quarterly set out to articulate the desires of the
new cinema audience, represented at the one end of the scale by
those who appreciate such films as Don Quixote, Maedchen in Uniform,
and Kameradschqft, and at the other by those who now go to the
cinema to be impressed rather than entertained by films like Cavalcade
and I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, To a growing extent it has
come to be a forum for the actual makers of films to discuss their
problems and search out towards a true understanding of the
fundamentals of cinema. In the present number Michael Balcon,
who, as production chief of the Gaumont-British studios at Shepherds
Bush, has done much to increase the prestige of British films, and
John Grierson, whose contribution to documentary is well-known,
discuss the function of the producer. In forthcoming numbers the
entire structure of the film will be considered from every aspect, by
the craftsman as well as by the theorist.

This does not mark a departure from our original policy. In
using these pages for an analysis of their medium not only the film-
makers will benefit. The spectator will gain an insight into the
intricacies of production — the practical consideration of techni-
calities as well as the abstractions of technique — which will help
him towards a fuller appreciation of the new art of the film, which
demands both of creator and spectator a greater sensibility and a
wider understanding than do any of the older arts. The spectator's
point of view will continue to be expressed editorially, and in con-
tributions from representative members of the new cinema public
and from men and women distinguished in other spheres.

THE SUB-STANDARD FILM

The importance of the development of sub-standard film in its
various dimensions lies in two directions. On the one hand, though
apparatus is admittedly still too dear for the man in the street, it
allows the independent producer and groups to experiment along
lines uninviting to the commercial film-maker. And on the other it
solves, or can solve, the problem of repertory. If all the worth-
while films, after being fully exploited in the theatres, could be
reduced to sub-standard dimensions it would be possible to form

2

private and public libraries, so that the student or any owner of a
home projector could obtain and see films which are now finally
inaccessible after their commercial exploitation. In education,
and for propaganda and advertising, for which purposes sub-
standard film is being increasingly used, television might con-
ceivably limit its scope; but for the experimenter its value should
remain, and in home projection its position ultimately would be
analogous to that of the gramophone in relation to wireless.

It seems to have occurred to few people that the film, like the
printed book, is a permanent record. Yet that is one of its main
characteristics. That being so, it is reasonable that copies of films
should be as readily accessible as books are. The Film Institute
includes in its aims the preservation of important films, but if it could
organise a scheme for the establishment of repertory film libraries,
not necessarily under its own control, it would be doing a work of
first-class importance.

EXPERIMENTAL PRODUCTION

To co-ordinate the efforts of those who are seriously engaged in
the production of experimental, documentary, and educational
films, either on standard or sub-standard apparatus, there has
been formed the Independent Film-makers Association, with a
board of advisers which includes Anthony Asquith, Andrew
Buchanan, John Grierson, Stuart Legg, Paul Rotha, and Basil
Wright. If this new and purposive Association can induce the
amateur to use his camera to practical ends instead of in idle imita-
tion of Hollywood it should have a considerable influence on the
development of the sub-standard market. Its activities will be
fully recorded in Cinema Quarterly, which will act as its official organ.

THE FILM INSTITUTE

The scheme to form a national Film Institute has probably filled
more space in the Press than the Loch Ness monster and the return
of the c Ashes ' combined, yet there are still countless queries as
to the who, the what, and the why of the whole business. Behind
the wordy barrage the promoters have gone steadily ahead with
their plans, and the British Film Institute, less imposing perhaps
than originally conceived, is finally in existence, if not yet operative.
From certain quarters there has been all along frank criticism of
the scheme, but the critics must now remain silent until it is seen
what the new Institute can do, or at least until its plans for imme-

3

diate action are announced. It is hard to discover exactly what is
expected of the Institute, either by the trade or the mixed public
of bishops, aldermen, and schoolmasters who have made its establish-
ment possible. It has asked for the co-operation of" all the various
sections of the new film movement." Provided its directors display
the imagination and leadership their position demands there is
little doubt that this will be forthcoming in full measure.

Meanwhile, the film societies movement is steadily growing.
Nearly every important city now has its organisation for the ex-
hibition of Continental and artistic films not usually shown by com-
mercial cinemas, and similar societies are now being formed even in
quite small towns. A self-satisfied eclecticism may have animated
the formation of some of these bodies, but more often the incitement
has been a propagandist urge to arouse in others a realisation of the
possibilities of the film as an art. The fact that many societies not
only give private performances to their members, but support and
encourage the public exhibition of worth-while films, organise
children's matinees, form study circles and arrange lecture courses,
possess libraries of books and stills, and even attempt production,
shows the breadth of purpose dictating their activities and proves
that they are alive to their responsibilities to the community.

OURSELVES

With this number Cinema Quarterly appears in a new format and at
the reduced price of one shilling. This has been done to increase
its effectiveness and to reach a still wider public. No apology is
needed in asking readers to support this move by making the
Quarterly known to others and by subscribing or placing a regular
order through a bookseller. The friendly co-operation we have
received from all quarters during our first year makes us confident
that this request will not be made in vain.

Paul Rotha, who as the author of "The Film Till Now" and
" Celluloid," needs no introduction to readers, has joined us as
London Correspondent. Basil Wright, who acted in this capacity
before making plans to go abroad, will continue to be closely
associated with us and to contribute regularly.

Correspondents throughout the world will keep readers in-
formed about current events and tendencies abroad to a fuller
extent than formerly. Outstanding contributions to early issues
will include articles by E. McKnight Kauffer, Ellen Wilkinson,
Oliver Baldwin, and Philip Lindsay. For the rest — let this number

speak for itself.

Norman Wilson.

THE FUNCTION
OF THE PRODUCER

1. THE STUDIO PRODUCER

MICHAEL BALCON

Production Chief of the Gaumont-
British Studios at Shepherds Bush

The work of the film producer is to determine the choice of subjects,
of directors, and of artistes, for every picture, and to decide the cost
to be borne. Under his supervision director, scenario editor, and
unit executives prepare the script, the plans of sets, and the time
schedules for each production. When the film is in the making its
daily progress is reported to him. He is the sponsor, and the guide,
and the ultimate court of appeal.

A position of this sort, while not without its compensations, must
inevitably have its full share of difficulties. The kind of energy which
the producer must stimulate and direct is based upon the creative
and artistic impulses of directors, writers, camera men, and artistes.
Such impulses are so personal that they constantly require the close
attention of one directing mind to blend them into the harmonious
unity which is essential for any successful achievement in a form of
entertainment which depends upon the specialised work of so many
different hands.

The history of the cinema shows that every period of successful
output is traceable to the producers who have had not only the good
fortune to be able to surround themselves with first-rate executives,
but who have also had the courage to trust implicitly in the genius
of their chosen directors, technicians, and actors.

This division of labour, however, does not absolve him from his
personal responsibility. In a large organisation the work of a producer
is endless. He must be ceaselesslv on the look-out for new ideas and
and new methods, without for a moment relaxing his attention from
the work in hand, whether it be in the embryo stage of a proposed

5

scenario, or whether it be the day's " rushes" of the half-dozen
productions which are actually on the floor. Again, in a world
where competition is so keen, and rivalry friendly or unfriendly is so
strong, he must be constantly on his guard, so that his output is not
overshadowed by thai of others. He must aim all the while at thinking
faster than his rivals.

No one realises more clearly than a producer that it is impossible
to stand still, and in hib efforts to bring something new to the screen
he will, within the limits of his vision, see to it that this something
new contains the vitalising germ of artistic imagination, of fresh
uses of the camera, of a finer and more subtle portrayal of human
activities and emotions.

But his judge is ultimately the man in the street. If the work he
has been at such pains to accomplish does not please the public he
will have failed. It will be useless for him to point out that the
productions under his control are supreme works of art. It will not
help him to argue that every film for which he has been responsible
has shown one step further in the development of the cinema. Let
us face the fact frankly. The cinema is an industry as well as an art.
The buildings in which the films are made are regulated by the
Factory Acts. In them are employed hundred of skilled workmen
of every trade. Their output, therefore, will be governed by the
conditions that affect every industry. They must find a ready market.
Furthermore, as a source of employment, the film industry is a
national asset, and the greater its success, the greater its national
value. It can only achieve that success by turning out films that will
not only repay the money spent on their production, but will also
show sufficiently large profits to enable the producer to embark on
more ambitious and therefore larger staffed undertakings.

This is not a defence of inartistic productions, nor is it a con-
cession to a low standard of taste. It is just a reminder than the
making of films does not go on in the garrets of starvation, where the
geniuses of so many arts have eked out their existence to find recogni-
tion only after their death.

Whatever the rights or wrongs of the question may be, it is a fact
that the cinema is part of the everyday life of more people that have
ever read a line of Shakespeare or have ever heard the name of
Blake. On the lines of the old parallel that the strength of a chain
is the strength of its weakest link the enlightenment, the intelligence,
and the artistic merit of the cinema are bound up with the capacity
of its vast public to appreciate those qualities. All this, too, the
producer must bear in mind.

It is good for him to have his critics. It is stimulating for him to
receive chastisement from the impatient pens of those who are already
sufficiently mentally advanced and artistically inspired to point

6

the way to greater beauty and to richer emotional values on the
screen. But they must remember that he must walk in the company
of those who are not yet able to run. For a man who, by virtue of his
work, is in such close contact with the minds of a great mass of the
community, there is no greater folly than to imagine that they are
satisfied with just bread and circuses. But whatever he does, he must
talk to them in their own language, and not in the language of the
academy and of the lecture -room.

The producer, therefore, must remember that he is responsible
to the company that employs him for keeping the balance between
the industrial or commercial side of film making and the creative or
artistic side.

The way of a producer, then, is not easy, and the qualities he
must strive after are difficult to attain. The difficult ideal he must
set himself is to be as absorbent as a sponge, as indulgent as a father,
as hard as steel, and as patient as Job. In an art with unlimited
possibilities inspiration may come even from the humblest sources.
He can afford to neglect nothing. The material with which he works
is not only human but is also artistic. To get the best out of the
artist calls for a profound understanding of their psychology. There
are times when he must give way, there are more frequent times
when he must stand his ground, and he is never free from the
necessity of calling upon an infinite resource of patience.

2. THE DOCUMENTARY PRODUCER

JOHN GRIERSON

Producer to the Empire Marketing
Board throughout its career

The producer's function is to co-ordinate the more or less worldly
intentions of backers with the more or less unworldly intentions of
artists. He either finds the money for the artists or the artists for the
money: differing in honour according to the direction from which
he approaches. Sometimes, if he is ingenious, he carries the reputa-
tion among the artists of being an artist himself, and among the
backers of being tougher than themselves. Sometimes — this is more
frequent — he degenerates into a bully or a sycophant, sent by the
money-grubbers to mangle and destroy every decent creative effort
whatsoever. Sometimes he more blazingly constitutes himself a
racketeer and defence organisation for the artists against the money-
grubbers. At his best he is just a plain pandar, serving art as best

7

he can within the limits set by the high policy of his organisation.
This is almost invariably a low policy.

In documentary there is this difference. The producer does not
always serve purely commercial interests; unless, that is to say, you
take the Marxian point of view, on which all service of the status quo
is purely commercial. He can give himself the liberal satisfaction
of serving such interests as education and national propaganda:
which, on any sensible definition, is itself a species of education. Or
the producer may act on behalf of a business concern, large enough
in its operations and its outlook, to turn publicity into education,
and propaganda into a work of development.

In these special fields the producer's function is that of any other
head-master. If he does not himself teach, he sees to it that the
parents are satisfied. The only difference in the analogy is that the
parents in this case are sometimes too scared of films, or too eminently
delighted with any and every film, or too eminently cocksure that
they know everything about films. The gentry of the studios, like
other criminals, have a simple criterion. They look at the balance
sheet and sack accordingly. The gentry of education and propaganda
face a balance sheet which can be defined in no such exact terms as
are to be found in red columns and black. They have to decide
not only about immediate effects in a classroom, but about long-range
effects on a generation. They are, as a rule (and except for the
eminently expert), satisfied with some such instruction as to "bring
this, that, or the other thing alive.55 This is an ideal formula for a
producer, and turns him into the knee-wife he ought to be. His main
problem is to see that the director does bring this subject alive and
not another. For directors tend to diverge.

But perhaps his functions are, in reality, more complicated.
Documentary, or the creative treatment of actuality, is a new art
with no such background in the story and the stage as the studio
product so glibly possesses. Theory is important, experiment is
important; and every development of technique or new mastery of
theme has to be brought quickly into criticism. In that respect it is
well that the producer should be a theorist : teaching and creating a
style; stamping it, in greater or less degree, on all the work for which
he is responsible.

Again, because documentary is new, the sponsors of propaganda
and education have to be led gently to a knowledge of what is
involved. They will instruct you, as like as not, to get a snap of this,
add it to a snap of that, and finish triumphantly with a snap of
something else; then wonder why the simple sequence which results
is not the world-shaking work of art they intended. In that respect
it is well that the producer should know how to talk soothingly to
children and idiots.

8

And a third point. The subject matter for education and propa-
ganda is seldom easy. You are not asked to look for the exciting bits
and the exciting themes and shoot these. You are generally asked to
hunt about in some seemingly dull subject and find a way of putting
it on the screen. The producer's job is, by educational or sociological
or other reference, to bring his director to the sticking point. This is
the most fruitful part of his work, and is the highest justification of
those sponsors of education and propaganda who might, on sloppier
theories, be considered a plague to honest artists. It is they who
force the pace of documentary cinema and extend its range by the
very problems they set. Any fool can make exciting films about
exciting things. It is they who, in the end, make documentarians.
A producer will recognise this.

But only one thing gives the producer importance: the fact that
he makes directors and, through directors, makes art. It is the only
thing worth an artist's making: money not excepted. Directors can
be no larger than the producer allows them to be, and their films no
bigger (except by noble accident) than his own imagination permits.
Handling, as he may do, men of different outlooks, different tempera-
ments, he must often, like Chesterton's Knight, ride off in all direc-
tions. The feat is difficult .but, on occasion, spectacular. It involves
faith, hope, and charity for each of his directors, in different degrees;
and all at the same time. The most important virtue of these is
faith : which is to say, footage. The only secret of good results in
documentary is that a director be permitted patience with his
subject, and persistence. If these do not work once, you may try
him again. You may even try him a third time. But you do not
carry experiment to Biblical proportions. Round about the third
time you decide you have been a bad producer in picking so bad a
director. Or you decide he is a genius outside the scope of your
imagination. You fire him, or fire yourself, according to your
conscience.

THE CAMERA
TURNS ON HISTORY

PHILIP LINDSAY

Author of the novel " Here Comes the King,"
and responsible for the accuracy of the
historical details in Henry VIII.

Romance is coming back into the films. I think that we can now
say good-bye to the gangster, the muscular college-boy, the back-
chatting show-girl, and the drunken reporter. That phase in films
has passed ; romance is coming back, and the historical film is return-
ing into its own again. Almost all the great silent successes were
costume, and I feel assured that the great talkie successes will be
costume. The public wants them; the world, in fact, needs them.
We have been pushed up too close to the shoddy, vulgar, and brutal
things of to-day; we are tormented by memories of the last war,
frightened at the menace of another war; we have gone to the
films for relaxation, for inspiration, or for pleasure, and we have
returned shocked and a little ashamed of our civilisation. In future,
however, we will be shown the great achievements of man in the
past; we will see heroic deeds and splendid women, and thus we will
be taught that our civilisation is not a crude, sudden growth — not a
'system,55 as the communists, in defiance of history, will call it — but
that down the centuries man has been striving forward, building,
creating.

The films can teach us this. Instead of degrading man, they can
exalt him. I have no time for the young intellectuals, overdosed with
psycho-analysis, who, on suddenly discovering that savage impulses
remain in our unconscious, persist in believing that those impulses
are our whole mind. Man is not a vile creature. Anyone who
studies history cannot help being impressed by the rapidity and
vitality of his growth. It is not so very long ago since we lived in
swamps and knuckled our faces like Rodin5s "Thinker,55 crushed
under immense and savage heads, tormented by the birth of dreams
beyond knowledge. We have conquered the earth, we are conquering
space — all in so amazingly swift a period. Surely our achievement
is something of which to be immensely proud?

10

That is what costume films can make us realise. I am not speaking
to the cultured audience, who know these things, and who can watch
a gang-war and a wheedling hot mamma with detached amusement ;
we must not forget that the great film public is often entirely
uneducated. To them films are more real than life; to them the
speech of actors is something to be mimicked, their gestures something
to be copied. I am not a moralist in the usual sense of the word.
I detest the idea of a censorship or of any attempt by outsiders to
rule life too completely; but I cannot help feeling that, instead of
being a power for good, the films have too often been a power for
evil. They have taught young girls to expect a swift and ugly
seduction; they have taught young men to woo by clipping their
wenches on the jaw and to have contempt for honesty. How many
other finer things they could have taught the world: the simple
world, that believes all it sees in newsprint and to whom the films
are teachers and leaders !

Costume films, I firmly believe, will bring back a sense of honour
and honesty. Instead of lads striving to be Cagneys they will wish
to be d'Artagnans; and the women will expect a certain finesse, a
certain beauty, about love-making. Costume films will bring colour
into life. We have been forced into believing that abstract things
like " honour" and "love" are exploded. They may be empty words,
but surely a belief in them makes life richer, more beautiful? We
need romance terribly to-day. Half our present sense of futility is
based on the lack of these old values that man has most carefully
formed and treasured for centuries. It is not right that they should
be swept aside by machine-gunning gangsters and crude gold-
diggers, such as most films have glorified. Of course, we must not
blame the films for this loss of values : the causes are too numerous
and too well known for me to define them here. And, after all,
pictures are the servants of the public and mirror only the passing
moods of a generation. If costume films are returning it means that
the public demands them; that it is weary of a life that has no
meaning beyond a bottle of gin and a few loveless kisses.

Historical novels are coming swiftly into popularity; historical
films are coming, too. And this has made me very happy. It is a
healthy sign, a sign of renewed vitality. Now we will be shown the
past — we will see before us the great achievements of man, the
gigantic history of a little creature that has risen from we know
not what, who has conquered and enslaved all animals within his
reach, who has conquered even the earth itself and the space enclosing
the earth. The greatest story in the universe is the story of man.
Too long have we been taught to despise ourselves; too long have
we been shown only the decaying side of civilisation ; now we will
be shown its growth. The films will teach us self-respect.

ii

ALEXANDER KORDA

and the
INTERNATIONAL FILM

In an Interview with

STEPHEN WATTS

In the midst of the most important forty-eight hours in his career
since he became a film producer in Britain, Alexander Korda sat
in his Mayfair office and talked to me about the international aspect
of film-making.

The time and place were peculiarly appropriate. The previous
evening I had stood by Korda's side in the Carlton Hotel w7hile
Douglas Fairbanks, senior, and his even more talented junior, dis-
coursed on their plan to remain in Britain and make their future
pictures in collaboration with the Korda organisation. They saw no
reason why their locale should affect the world-wide appeal their
work had enjoyed in the past, which meant that they were credit-
ing Korda with the ability to turn out international films with a
consistency never before attempted in this country.

Moreover, the elder Fairbanks made no secret of the fact that a
preview of Korda's chef d'ceuvre, The Private Life of Henry VIIL had
been the deciding factor in clinching his arrangements.

While we talked, Korda had many times to lift the telephone at his
side and murmur responses to the verbal bouquets showering in on
him from friends who had seen the first showing of the Laughton
film the previous evening. Then that night, too, was of importance,
because it was going to bring to light another aspect of Korda, the
director, in the first screening of his Paris-made comedy, The Girl
from Maxim's.

I said the place was appropriate to our subject. The office of
London Film Productions might well be sub-titled 'International
House." I am credibly informed that eight languages are in current
use among the personnel. From the German conversation between
two members of the staff in an ante-room I passed in to be greeted
in Hungarian-accented English by Korda, who sat speaking Italian
into a telephone.

12

Looking at this pleasant, pale-complexioned young man in
spectacles, it is difficult to believe that he made his first films in
Hungary in the first years of the War.

" We did not think much about markets in those days," he said.
"The director was usually quite out of touch with commercial
considerations and simply made his picture as he saw it.

"Yet in a way that serves to illustrate the most important thing
I have to say about what we call 'the international film.' We
were Hungarians making Hungarian pictures for Hungarian people.
But if we had made a notably good one — and if the world had been
at peace — I believe it would have had an appeal anywhere. It
would have been characteristically Hungarian and a good film —
therefore it would have been international. But you must remember
the times in which we were working then.

"The first thing to make me give conscious thought to the
problem of international films was when a later film of mine, The
Prince and the Pauper, made in Vienna, was shown in America. I
believe it was the second European film to be seen out of Europe,
the first being Lubitsch's Madame du Barry.

"Ever since then I have thought in terms of international films
and no other. I might put it epigrammatically and say I believe
that international films are what good directors make. And though
I have made many bad films in my life I always hope to be a good
director.

'But perhaps the phrase 'international film' is a little ambiguous.
I do not mean that a film must try to suit the psychology and
manners of every country in which it is going to be shown. On the
contrary, to be really international a film must first of all be truly
and intensely national. It must be true to the matter in it.

'The question of speech is not of much importance nowadays.
Apart from the growth of multilingual versions, it has been
demonstrated that really good films are recognised as such
anywhere."

'But," I put in, "there is the question of humour, which is
always raised when internationality of films is discussed. Do you
think it is possible to have humour that will be understood and
will draw laughs in all countries?"

"I think that within certain limitations that is possible," Korda
replied. "The limitations are simply little things that any director
feels by intuition or knows by experience should be avoided. For
instance, while the English may always be relied upon to laugh at
themselves — to respond to irony at the expense of the Englishman
and his customs — it is useless to hope for a similar response in France
by 'taking off' the French, however gently. They do not understand
that type of humour. But, generally speaking, I think there are

13

plenty of humorous situations of which appreciation is unaffected
by geographical considerations."

"When you say that to be international a film must first be
national," I asked, "you do admit that is possible to go to extremes
and to be too narrowly national — or even parochial?"

'Certainly. It is not only possible but very easy in making a
film which will be characteristic of its place of origin to overstep
oneself and become parochial. Sometimes, of course, that type of
treatment is desirable — when a film is being made for a specific public
which is familiar with and trained to expect a certain style. The
Lynn-Walls farces, for instance, could never be called international;
but in them that is not a fault. They represent simply the exploitation
of a definite brand of comedy for a circumscribed public to whom it
needs no explanation. It is a tradition to which they are accustomed.
They would resent variation.

'But films based on reality should always have a general
appeal if they are good. The American gangster films, to take a
simple example, owe their appeal to their fidelity to events with
which the world is familiar. They are essentially American in every
detail. But when Hollywood tries to make a film with a would-be
universal theme, how seldom does anything more than a mere
programme picture emerge? In my own case, if I may say so, it
is because The Private Life of Henry VIII is English to the backbone
I feel it will appeal and succeed abroad.

"The question of appreciation is really dependent on this matter
of well-defined nationality. If a gangster in an American film is
depicted drawing a gun from his hip-pocket, nobody in Britain is
likely to object on the grounds that it is not a common practice for
Englishmen to carry guns. Similarly with the question of sex
treatment. Your French audience is ready for a great deal more
frankness and breadth in the statement of a sex situation than the
English. But that is no reason why British films with sex themes or
incidents should not be enjoyed in France. If anything in the
treatment strikes the Frenchman as being prim and proper or discreet
to the point of absurdity, by his lights, he will still accept it because
it is English — if the whole character of the film is English. But if an
English-made film had a French story so treated. . . . You see?'

"Could you name one or two outstanding international films
which have been essentially national in character, Mr. Korda?'

"Yes. The best American example is probably The Covered
Wagon. Another was Flaherty's Nanook, which was permeated with
the spirit of the North.

"By the way, you mustn't think that I am suggesting that
directors should make nothing but films about their own countries.
An outsider often makes the best job of a national film. He is not

14

cumbered with excessively detailed knowledge and associations. He
gets a fresh slant on things. For instance, I should hate to try to
make a Hungarian film, while I would love to make one about the
Highlands that would be a really national Scottish film — and indeed
I plan to do so. The best Hungarian film I have ever seen was
made by the Belgian, Jacques Feyder. I believe that Clair could
make a better London picture than any of the English directors — a
London film that would be international. I know there are people
who think it odd that a Hungarian from Hollywood should direct
an English historical film, but I can't see their argument.

" The greatest folly is to set out to try to suit everybody. It is
the sure road to insincerity and artificiality. The result will be a
mongrel film which belongs to no country."

"Whom do you think are the directors of to-day most capable
of making really international films, Mr. Korda?"

"Every good director. But you must make up your mind for
yourself which they are. Who am I to say?"

PROVINCIAL REPERTORY

Leeds is the first provincial town in Great Britain to have an art film
theatre. The Academy, formerly the Savoy, has been opened this
month by Erik Hakim and Ralph Bromhead, who plan to make this
the first of a chain of provincial repertory cinemas to be run on lines
similar to the London Academy, which has had such a remarkable
success under the direction of Miss Elsie Cohen. Continuous per-
formances are given daily from 1.30 to 10.30, and the prices of
admission range from is. to 2s. 6d. The first film to be presented was
Der Traumende Mund, with Elisabeth Bergner. This will be followed
by Rene Clair's 14th July.

E. G. Pettet, the manager, states that attendances during the
first weeks have been sufficiently good to encourage hopes that the
venture will be adequately supported.

15

■i

THE COLOUR
OF IT

PENNETHORNE HUGHES

The mechanisation of entertainment increases constantly in scope
and in detail. There are new "mediums" and new forms of these
mediums. Usually both forms of novelty are greeted by the serious
if rather ineffective criticism of disinterested authorities, as well as
by the fulsome praises of their promoters ; but one case, that of the
colour film, has been overlooked by most of the critics. Dispirited,
perhaps, by the odds of vulgarity against them, sober writers, despite
the machine-gun rattle of advanced dilettantism, the intermittent
thunder of literary disapproval, and the discovery by the Sunday
newspapers that all that flickers is not gold, have never sufficiently
considered the eligibility of this new commercial phenomenon, which
is still seeking to smear the world with "All Colour" programmes.
It is curious, because talk and colour in films are both aspects of the
same increased realism of technique, and whilst one has been dis-
cussed ad nauseam, the other has been practically passed over. Yet
whilst a properly comprehended and controlled colour process might
conceivably have good qualities, the present injudicious monstrosities
are as extravagantly unsatisfactory as the spate of inferior dialogue
which produces such deserved storms of critical repulsion.

Colour in films is not really new. There was a luscious Siege of
Calais before the War, and films like The Glorious Adventure and
Fairbanks' The Black Pirate were often successful. For years, too,
there have existed those parodies of Switzerland and the Rockies,
in picture post-card polychromy, which represent a sentimental
journey with a camera and a paint-box. Indeed, since the earliest
days, most films have been uniformly tinted one shade or another.
Cowboys pursued dusty romance against an appropriate yellow;
Germans crowded epically upon a meditative grey, Frenchmen
gesticulated patriotically through a haze of blue vignetting, and
incendiaries internationally succeeded behind palls of luridly crimson

16

smoke. Individual producers, too, had their tonal prejudices, both
before and after the introduction of panchromatic stock. But it was
not enough. Now we have the final fling of generous showmanship,
when numerous super-productions are afforded the full resources of an
ill-assorted spectrum. These glories have long been confined to trans-
lated musical comedies, and so have merely emphasised blatancy
instead of creating it. Indeed, a few scenes have been improved by
colour, and there have been one or two interesting experiments, as,
for instance, the coloured cartoon in the King of Jazz and the very
successfully coloured Silly Symphonies.

Technical considerations are involved. Complete realism is im-
possible, for the colours of the theatre can be reproduced fairly
satisfactorily, but the more subtle gradations of natural scenery
cannot. Although this difficulty may be, perhaps is being, overcome,
still it is surely commercial suicide to torture "fandom" and to alienate
potential but sensitive film-goers with the crudely unintentional
distortions of the moment? It is, indeed, doubtful whether man will
ever be able physically to appreciate colour in motion, except in the
most obvious masses. We can grasp form, and even form in motion,
but it is extremely hard to enjoy the composition, as well as the literal
content, of colour in motion. Indeed, most people, except the very
sensitive or the very unsophisticated, find it more easy to understand
even a painting in photographed reproduction than in the canvas.
Our colour sense may be developing, our spectrum dividing, but
until the retino-cerebral apparatus is far more advanced than it is
at present, it is improbable that we shall sensually enjoy coloured
films, except for their purely kaleidoscopic characteristics. The
kaleidoscope is an abstract of great value as exercise to the aesthete
and the technician, but it is training for a form of expression at
present immensely difficult to appreciate. It is certainly not the pre-
occupation of the producers of super-films.

The manipulation of light and movement is, then, much better
controlled in black and white, or any definite monochrome, than in
imperfect if triumphant colours. The vociferous yearning for more
patter and less art has not altogether deprived us of films with some
intelligence of construction and precision of purpose, but these would
soon be thinned even more drastically by the adoption of a universal
system of colouring. Such a system must, at present, hide form and
clarity, making the whole composition less exciting as a continuous
pattern, and less convincing as a story, than it would otherwise have
been. In fact, colour films are, at the moment, a pronounced
mistake.

It is difficult, therefore, to account for the reticence of the more
reputable authorities. Are they just frightened or tired, after the
terrible hullabaloo about talkies, or suddenly unwilling to enter

17

into a discussion which must be profitless? For there cannot possibly
be a lack of arguments. Recognised forms of monochrome art have
always existed: sepia, etching, line drawing, and even sculpture.
For coloured sculpture has achieved fashion rarely, and success
hardly ever. (The Greeks are no help, as we cannot properly judge
what their colours were like, and, at all events, there is the tattered
argument of Greek colour blindness.) It is the monochrome forms
that have been most easily realised, expressed, and probably under-
stood. This does not, of course, constitute any final argument
against the use of colour, but it does tritely underline the fact that
the uncoloured fi'm has a separate development no less obvious
than the silent film. Even upon the lowest, the "escape" level of
argument, consider the verisimilitudinous horrors of dirty reds and
foggy yellows. The magnates should beware.

This is only the fringe of an argument about which technicians,
cineastes, symposial celebrities, and correspondence columnists will
in time clamour in earnest conviction and bad journalism. Only
it is strange that they have been so long in starting, and it is desirable
that those sincerely interested in the intelligent cinema should
consider the aesthetic appropriateness of colour-films before it is too
late.

THE FILM IN EDUCATION

The Scottish Educational Cinema Society — founded in 1929,
with headquarters in Glasgow — has done much experimental and
propaganda work in the educational film sphere. Though the
classroom film in its varied aspects has been extensively discussed
at winter session lectures, the society has been distinguished rather
by its practical approach to a problem already somewhat over-
burdened by investigation. Special classroom films have been
prepared and exhibited in Glasgow schools, and the Committee is at
present engaged on a scheme of film work which covers the geography
of Scotland. During the summer, J. C. Elder, founder of the Society,
toured Scotland with a cameraman and covered some three thousand
miles in search of material for the Ideal Cinemagazine and the Gaumont
Sound Mirror, much of which will also be used for classroom films.
Among the other activities of an enterprising society is the organisa-
tion of special matinees for children. The annual subscription is
2s. 6d., and the Hon. Sec. is D. Fraser, 129 Bath Street, Glasgow.

18

A WORKING PLAN
FOR SUB-STANDARD

"EMBFU"

I use this title because sub-standard production has been too ex-
clusively associated with leisure : with summertime glimpses of
children digging in sand pits and other domestic, or would-be
domestic, felicities of the personal life. Much of the product of
amateur groups, if better in technical degree, belongs to the same
category of leisure-time activity. The felicities in this case are the
slightly more public, but still very local, felicities of charade. The
participants, more often than not, are simply having a good clean
time together: seeing themselves act. They are not doing anything
especially purposive with their films.

The Preston Film Society made a good little film about electricity
a year ago for the local electricity people. The Edinburgh Guild
has made a 16 mm. short, with the civic intention of bringing Edin-
burgh alive. These cases are exceptions. The majority have been
pottering about with comedies and dramas, which could not, of
course, have any hope of audience outside the family circle.

Some of you may wish to qualify this description of amateur
intention, for the phrase "experimental cinema" is often used for
these efforts. The suggestion is that behind amateur work there is
sometimes the high ambition of making works of art. I think not
often, or there would be more documentaries among the amateurs
and fewer dramas. By the very nature of the case, the necessary
limitations of amateur work (the lack of studio, laboratory, not to
mention thespian facilities) make the studio grade far more difficult
than the documentary grade. And there is good reason to believe
that if the intention were really experimental the amateurs would
choose that particular field in which experiment is a practical
possibility. We must conclude that the amateurs have been playing
themselves.

19

All this is very well, and I do not raise the matter in a spirit of
objection. Cinema, if inferior to golf, is as fair and expensive a way
as most of spending Saturday afternoons. It is true, however, that
many amateurs would welcome an opportunity of turning their film
sense to public uses : and it must be the first job of any movement in
the 1 6 mm. field to outline these public uses and organise their
service. This is the thesis of the present article.

Serving a definite end is, among other things, a very important
incentive in the making of films : far more important than the vague
and almost always false incentive of "making art." It is a good
practical axiom that art is never to be got by direct pursuit. It is a
trophy obtained, by the grace of one or other of the gods, in the
fervent pursuit of something else. In any case, the definite end is a
salutary discipline. It dictates the theme. It dictates the treatment.
It dictates lucidity and length. It provides an audience and, gen-
erally, a critical audience. For all these gifts the amateur should be
grateful.

There are two other very important considerations. The definite
end may also supply the cash, as happened with the Preston Film
Society, the Glasgow educational group, and, I believe, with one
of the efforts of the Edinburgh Film Guild. There are other examples
to be found in the technical colleges, research laboratories, and the
mines and factories. Amateur work has, in such cases, been put on
an economic basis. The second important consideration is that the
definite end gives amateur film production a growing point. It ties
it up with the life of the community and gives it status as a social
activity. It supplies the continuing support necessary to development.

Inspiration (continuing inspiration), regarding theme and treat-
ment are not associates, on the more romantic theories, with the
cold-blooded purposes of a public end ; but, on any evidence, you
will find it so. Art, or call it creation, generally involves a mastery
of raw material and there is nothing like having the raw material
forced upon it. It is then that the imagination has to dig in and
find things ; and there is no better way of discovering that element of
surprise (miracle, call it) which is a necessary quality of art than by
taking it from what seems unpromising material.

Anyone knows that birds, trees, hills, lakes, sunsets, etc., are good-
looking, and any moron exposing at five-six with a K2 will say as
much as need be said about them. But to dive into a factory, or dive
into a slum, is a more adventurous business. And to make a good
clean job of a teaching film on the Southern Uplands of Scotland is a
more adventurous business still. Just to select those twenty or thirty
or fifty shots from all the activities involved which will say your say
about it, and make it an analytical or poetic or dramatic say, is
something that no one has done before you.

20

Marlene Dietrich as the cabaret singer in 'The Song of Songs/
a Paramount production, directed by Rouben Mamoulian,

Jessie Mathews in ''Friday the Thirteenth/'
a forthcoming Gainsborough picture,
directed by Victor Saville.

You are not asked to seek difficulty for the sake of difficulty or to
despise the good subjects which lie to hand. Even the easier and more
romantic subjects (spring on the hills, for example) will bear a new
and fresh description. The main point is that amateurs should not
be ashamed of the subjects which educational or industrial or civic
or other propaganda organisations are liable to present to them. It
is good to remember that Leonardo, Michelangelo, and El Greco
were all paid propagandists.

A consequence of this argument is that purposive amateurs should
devote themselves to documentary and be done with it. That is
where the educational and propaganda work lies; and, as already
suggested, that is where amateur work is likely to find its highest
level.

For the sake of convenience it is good to remember the main
divisions of documentary work. There are three schools. The first
is the newsreel or popular journalist school. It calls its pictures
" interest" pictures, because it only takes from the subject what it
knows (and any fool will agree) to be interesting. If in the village
of Cuckold's Green the parson's whiskers are six inches longer than
any other parson's, and the village idiot can waggle his ears faster
and wider than any other village idiot, that is its sufficient gambit
for a description of English village life. In its more soulful moments
it takes to scenics and conjures ham and egg effects from sunsets:
red filter, F8 or thereabouts. The second school is the Flaherty
school, a deeper affair altogether. It is exotic in its material. It is
concerned with native life, native manners, native philosophies, but
only with natives who wander on halcyon isles or battle against
epic horizons. It does not regard the unemployed of Coatbridge as
natives. If it impinges on the modern school it is in recherche du temps
perdu. It will teach you all you need to know about shooting the
simpler communities, and will tell you better than any how to make
natural phenomena drape themselves into a continuing story. The
third school is represented by Wertov and Turin in Russia, Ruttman
in Germany, Ivens in Holland, and by the E.M.B. group and Rotha
in Britain. It deals entirely with industrial and modern material.
All its films are made under educational or propaganda auspices,
and are so financed. Its method of treatment varies. It is sometimes
impressionist, sometimes symphonic, sometimes analytical; but it
avoids both the personal story and the discursive. It is concerned
to build up mass descriptions and build a theme out of its sequence
of mass descriptions. On the technical side it deals in tempos,
rhythms, images. Deprived of the journalistic reference of the
newsreel method and the romantic appeal of the Flaherty method,
it is concerned to find the sociological implications of its subject
matter.

23

Amateurs should master carefully the theories of the different
schools. They will provide a necessary academic grounding and
prevent a great deal of lost labour and enthusiasm. In so far as
amateur work is directed to public uses, the Flaherty example will
be found useful in some cases (for Travel Association purposes, for
example) ; but in the main the modern school will be found more
useful. Here you must watch carefully, for these tempos and rhythms
and things are all too theoretically fascinating and at the level of
discussion all too "arty" for practical guidance. They may easily
land you in abstract sequences which are anything but purposive
in their total effect. They are, after all, only the means by which you
make your material interesting : they do not of themselves create a
theme or story for that material. Even in documentary the play's
the thing. Or, as the case may be, the lesson, the message, is the
thing. Indeed there is now some considerable sign that the more
complex documentary effects (as in Berlin, for example) are passing
out of favour. A simpler, quieter, less "musical'1 and more pur-
posive treatment is taking its place.

Where the tale is a simple one, better tell it and let the effects
look after themselves, and not vice versa. This will both recommend
you to your educational or industrial or civic sponsors and give you
a first right step towards effective work. Amateurs, when they are
ambitious, tend to be too ambitious by half. When they turn pro-
fessional, it takes two years to de-theorise and decomplicate them.
They are too proud to be simple. This is spoken from laborious
experience.

Such advice in hand, what are the direct possibilities? In the
first place, there is a vast "bringing alive" service to be performed:
a very valuable line of approach to development associations, city
councils, steamship companies, travel associations. They all want
to see their particular blob of territory alive and kicking on the
screen, and there is no reason why the amateurs should not do it for
them. They can do it cheaper than professionals and may often,
with local knowledge, local enthusiasm, and a higher critical under-
standing of cinema, do it better. Many sections of the country:
villages, counties, industrial communities, seaside resorts, stretches
of mountain and coast, hiking circuits, have their descriptive story
to tell; and there are traders' organisations, civic organisations, to
whose interest it is that the story should be told. The rest is a matter
of business, and every amateur group should have a member who
can do business. The number of 16 mm. projectors in schools and
lecture organisations of all kinds will indicate the growing audience
available for this type of material. It may even be shot on 35 for the
wider audience 35 mm. commands ; 35 can always be reduced for 16 mm.
circulation.

24

The educational service is an even more promising service and
one I recommend very strongly to any amateur group with a
sprinkling of pedagogic membership. It has present examples in
the work at Altrincham under Gow and at Glasgow under the
Director of Education, with J. C. Elder in charge of practicals. The
Glasgow amateur group has set itself a programme of teaching films
for the Glasgow curriculum, joining up thereby their film work with
their professional work. Every other major educational authority
requires a similar scheme, and amateur groups should press them-
selves into their service. Curricula differ across the country, and it is
good that they should. Indeed, no matter what films are forth-
coming from London libraries they cannot hope to fulfil local
requirements. Directors of education are sensitive on this point and
will listen to you. Be careful, however, to concentrate on local
requirements, or you may be cutting across the production plans of
the production centres in London which will, necessarily, be dealing
with the wider themes. The educational film field cannot yet afford
any tendency to overlapping.

A third line of approach will be found in connection with local
hospitals and departments of public health. The churches and
Y.M.C.A.s with their various youth services and women's services
will suggest still another line. The publicity required by industrial
concerns, both inside and outside the factories, suggests yet another.
There is really no limit to the clients available to 16 mm. groups, if
they will but switch their attention to the many possibilities inside
educational and social work.

Only one warning is necessary. They will have to prove the
availability of an audience, before they can raise money for their
efforts. In the educational field, and in cases where films are made
for use by salesmen or for showing to employees, there is, of course,
no difficulty. In other cases the 16 mm. groups will have to indicate
distribution either through existing libraries, or through their own
central organisation. There is every sign in London that, if the films
are available, audiences will be found on a national scale. Audiences
on local scale can be left to the devices of the local groups. They will
not have learned their job as film people, if they cannot publicise
their wares.

25

THE FILM
ABROAD

FRENCH MOVIE TO-DAY

D. F. TAYLOR

The influence of the stage lies heavy on French movie. In no
country, save perhaps Japan, are the traditions and practice of the
stage so deeply embedded in the producer's mind. With what gusto
they announce an actor who is from the Comedie Francaise ! The music-
hall also has a considerable influence, and the Leslie Fuller and
Ernest Lotinga tradition is very closely paralleled in the French
programme picture. Technically, however, they are far behind
Britain. Cutting is even less appreciated at Joinville than at Elstree.
The tempo of films is dull and demonstrates a lack of movie sense.
The stage has had its influence in a superabundance of dialogue.
A shot of five hundred feet, in which the confines of the screen
become the sides of a stage, is not uncommon. But in set design,
and costume they excel, and though the stories are bad and the
method of telling them crude, there is very rarely anything offensive
to eye or ear. The French have a greater sensibility than any other
nation. Certainly their artistic sense is much better developed.
Perhaps the roots of this can be found in the higher standard of
education.

The experimental cinema that was such a vital and interesting
part of French movie has almost passed away. The men who thrilled
the days of our film adolescence with The Fall of the House of Usher ,
En Rade, La Petite Lise, Jeanne d'Arc, Le chien Andalou — where are they
now? . . . The ci-devant intellectuals have sold their souls down the
Champs Elysees. Cavalcanti, Dreville, Feyder, Epstein, L'Herbier,
are all working in the factories at Joinville turning out the programme
picture. The only one who has carried any of his virtues to Joinville
is Epstein, the erstwhile protagonist of French documentary. His
last film shown publicly, Hispano, did show some feeling for people
and a nice sense of timing. He managed to obtrude a lighthouse to
give it the Epstein signature. Cavalcanti is making Coralle et Cie, in

26

which Catherine Hessling has a small part. Jean Dreville, documen-
tary producer, turns Trois per cent. Eugene Deslaw, one of the earliest
abstract film-makers, is among the few who have resisted the lure of
the Big Time. He is making a documentary of La Cite Universitaire.
In an interview he said : " I was tired of the world, with its depressions
and crises. It held no hope. But here among the young students I
have found gaiety, health, and optimism, a belief in ideals. That is
the spirit of my film." It will carry neither dialogue nor spoken
commentary. Titles will be used with a musical commentary, a
synthesis of national songs typifying the cosmopolitan atmosphere of
this university.

Rene Clair, silent for so long, has been working on a shooting
script for a new film based on his own story. Conditions of the story
and the wishes of Tobis decided the making of the picture in Berlin.
Unfortunately under the Nazi regime certain regulations had to be
complied with and Clair was asked to make modifications to the
film. He refused, and temporarily the film has been shelved. In an
interview with Comcedia, Douglas Fairbanks said that he hoped Clair
would direct a picture for his new company. Nothing has developed,
and Clair is still idle. It is difficult to assess his position to-day. Over
a year has passed since A Nous la Liberie. In that film he demonstrated
his lack of social consciousness and his inability to face a social
problem. Instead he produced a vague Rousseauesque philosophy.
Unless Clair can show us that he is willing to tackle social themes,
his films will remain as they always have been, pleasant exercises in
movie technique. Sous les Toits de Paris was his best film, because he
was definitely interested in the lives of people at that time. Unques-
tionably he- is the best producer in France, but we want to know how
he is facing up to the new problems, what use he is making of new
ideas, and most importantly, whether he will remain a producer of
burlesque and musical comedy or whether he has the courage to
face movie themes.

The most sizeable figure working in France to-day is V. I.
Tourjansky. You will remember him as an unambitious producer of
such pictures as Volga-Volga and The White Devil. He has learnt a
lot since then and his latest picture, L'Ordannance, puts him in the
front rank. It is adapted from a de Maupassant story and has been
directed with a magnificent economy of shots giving it the starkness
of real drama. In the middle the film tends to lose balance, too
much emphasis being laid on matters immaterial to the logical
development of the story. Music has been very skilfully woven into
the film in a symbolic but never obtrusive fashion. Tourjansky will
do even bigger things when he ceases to use his camera truck in a
pointless manner and when he can curb his embarrassing tendency
to overemphasise the mood of a scene with symbolical settings. The

27

period is about the time of Nana, an atmosphere the French know so
well how to recreate. Miss Cohen of the Academy tells me it may be
shown in England. It is the best sound film exposition of the
naturalistic approach to cinema.

The Nazi persecution of the German film producers is likely to
benefit the French cinema. Lang, Pommer, Pabst, Ophuls, and a
host of others are working in Paris. It is too early yet to see any of
the films they are making, but the grafting of German technique on
the French school will certainly create films of interest. The introduc-
tion of the German technicians will undoubtedly improve the
technical deficiences of the French cinema. How the film melting-
pot will assimilate the French esprit and the German soul exploration
is a matter for conjecture. Preserve us from introspective musicals
or comedies of the subconscious!

AMERICA

Lewis Jacobs, who already has to his credit Mobile Composition,
Commercial Medley, and a four-reel documentary of the Southern
States, has now completed City Block, which is described as "a film
of violence." It is a close-up of a metropolitan block emphasising
cinematic technique rather than photographic quality. Sound is
used in counterpoint to image and not as exposition. The content is
entirely documentary. All sorts of ruses were resorted to in order to
photograph the people without their knowledge. A naturalness and
naivete, which can only be achieved in this way, is the result.

An intimate little cinema, seating 280, luxuriously furnished and
decorated in the modern manner, is about to be opened in Baltimore
by Hermann G. Weinberg, whose policy is to show only European
films and those American films which because of their artistic merit
(when they occur!) cannot get a release through the larger houses.
Among the films it is hoped to show during 1933-34 are Atlantide,
Don Quixote, Mirage de Paris, M, Foil de Carotte, The Merry Monarch,
Ariane, A Nous la Liberte, July 14, Fin du Monde, and The Deserter.

Prior to The Face of New England, Henwar Radakiewicz made two
films: The Barge, a documentary, shot entirely on a tugboat; and
Portrait of the Artist, also a documentary. In both of these, Radakiewicz
achieved striking photographic effects. The Face of New England
furthers the melodramatic quality of his photography. The film is
divided into four moods: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. The
particular atmosphere and detail of New England environs is inter-

28

preted in its seasonal flux. Radakiewicz works with great patience
to obtain exact photographic values. Almost a full year has been
spent on the picture and only half of it has been completed. If it is
mounted as well as it is photographed, The Face of New England
will undoubtedly be an important contribution to film art.

Lewis Jacobs.

GERMANY

The German cinema as the world knew it can no longer be said to
exist. The studios have been "purged" of "non- Aryans" and those
who do not support the Nazi regime, and such international figures
as Erich Pommer, G. W. Pabst, Joe May, Paul Czinner, and Fritz
Lang, are now in exile. Others, such as Emil Jannings, Werner
Krauss, Marlene Dietrich, and Lilian Harvey are at present abroad
and are likely to be affected by a new decree which will exclude
from working in Germany all who make contracts to go abroad or
who renew their present contracts outside of Germany — thereby
"retardingfthe work of cultural reconstruction."

The new German films are undisguised Nazi propaganda. Horst
Wessel glorifies the achievement of a Nazi student who was killed by
Communists in 1930 and has since been made something of a national
hero, while S.A. — Mann Brand, which undoubtedly has considerable
entertainment value, shows the Communists, characterised as Jews,
as the enemy of the people, represented by the Storm Troops.
Fugitives, directed by Gustav Ucicky, is an attack on Bolshevism
and deals with the fate of the Volga Germans who fled out of Russia
at the Revolution.

BELGIUM

Germaine Dulac, well-known as a producer of avant garde films, is
now Art Manager of Gaumont News Reel, of which there is a Belgian
supplement. Charles de Keukelaire, director of Combat de Boxe and
Lourdes, is in charge of the photography.

Maurice Dembrain has made a folklore film of the Ath Fair —
La Danse des Grants — which endeavours to bring out the curious
rhythm of the popular feasts and the reaction they create on the
people. The Belgian cinema appears to be turning in a decidedly
national direction. L. P.

29

MISCELLANY

ADAPTATION: AN EXAMPLE

CLIFFORD LEECH

When The Merry Monarch was withdrawn from the London Empire
after one day's showing, the blame was thrown on the sedulity of
Mr. Shortt. No doubt the English copy suffered from his attentions,
yet there was in it so much falseness and stupidity that we must be
allowed to question whether the original had ever anything more to
recommend it than an intermittently pleasant air of bawdry.

Pierre Louys5 novel, Les Aventures du Roi Pausole, introduces us to
the country of Trypheme, where complete sexual liberty is established.
King Pausole, however, is a prey to indecision, and has therefore
assigned the control of his household to the puritanical Taxis. The
story tells how the Princess Aline leaves the court with Mirabelle, a
Lesbian, and how Pausole sets forth in search of her. The rule of
Taxis is successfully challenged by the page, Giglio, and Pausole
is at last convinced that freedom must be the property even of his
wives and daughter.

The novel has its niche in literature as a picture of licentiousness
carried to its logical conclusion and as a setting for the genuinely
and humanly amusing character of Pausole. The film of The Merry
Monarch has neither logic nor characterisation. It is worth con-
sidering here only because of its "artistic" pretensions.

Four notable changes are made in the screen translation:

(i) Mirabelle is, inevitably, no longer a Lesbian; yet she un-
necessarily appears on about three occasions. There are other
discrepancies of this kind, and at least one serious gap in the narrative.
Presumably the censor has been at work, but if the film were deemed
worth showing in its cut version, then it would also have been worth
while to refashion it as a coherent unity.

(2) Giglio has become an aviator who discovers the land of
Trypheme. This was a happy invention, for it could make him a

30

Conrcd Veidt in the "Wanderinc, Jew/'
a Twickenham Films product on.

Still photograph by Cyril Stanborough.

Anna Neagle in 'Bitter Sweet/' a British and
Dominions screen version of Noel Coward's
play, directed by Herbert Wilcox. The film is
notable tor the photography of Fred Young
and the set design of L. P. Williams.

representative of the audience, delighted with the principles of this
new country, and demanding that they should be universally applied.
His character, however, is ruined by the attempted serious delinea-
tion of his love affair with Aline.

(3) At the end of the film, Pausole announces his conversion to
monogamy through the ministrations of Queen Diane! (This is
after Pausole and Diane have been lost at sea, being unable to
locate Trypheme because it does not appear on any of the world's
maps. An interesting addition, but introduced and disposed of far
too perfunctorily.)

(4) The indecision at the basis of Pausole's character is nowhere
hinted at, and the domination of Taxis becomes immediately
ridiculous. The king of The Merry Monarch is merely a bon viveur;
the king of Les Aventures du Roi Pausole is the one character in the
book who is created in the reader's own image. The puppet-
performances that come from English and American, and now
German, studios make us more than ever willing to see a film of
human character. Here was a great opportunity.

For the last three of these changes the censor cannot be held
responsible.

The Merry Monarch has been praised for the agreeable patterns of
its camera-work, but the director has apparently no eye for significant
detail. His obtuseness in this respect is revealed notably in the flat
filming of the ballet : not a single detail is brought out by camera
position or angle. An attention to significant detail, however, pre-
supposes a respect for one's subject-matter. And it seems impossible
that anyone could feel respect for the mixture of crudity and con-
ventionality that is The Merry Monarch.

THE POET AND THE FILM

G. F. DALTON

I should be very grateful to Herbert Read for a little further
explanation of some points in his article, "The Poet and the Film."*
In the first place, I am not quite sure what he means by the word
"poet." In one context it seems to have its original sense of "maker ':
or creative artist in general; in another it seemes to be confined to
those who compose verse. This ambiguity has an important effect
on Mr. Read's conclusion, "The film of imagination . . . will not
come until the poet enters the studio." If he uses the word "poet':

* Cinema Qjwrterly, Summer 1933.

33

in its first meaning, this sentence is reduced to, "The film of imagina-
tion will not come until creative imagination is used in its making,"
which is very nearly a truism. If by "poet" he means the maker of
verse, or even of literature generally, several other interesting points
are raised.

There seems to be no particular reason why the sentence quoted
above should not run, "The film of imagination will not come until
the musician enters the studio"; or the painter; or the sculptor.
Mr. Read says that literature is visual; but is not this at least equally
the case with painting and sculpture?

But let us examine this contention a little more closely. Mr. Read
says that the "single aim': of literature is "to convey images by
means of words." In that case, other things being equal, the more
clearly and accurately the visual image is expressed, the better is
the description as literature. This is a rather remarkable conclusion.
Thus, for example, when Milton wrote, "On his crest sat horror
plumed, nor wanted in his grasp what seemed both spear and
shield," he was writing very bad poetry, for he described things
quite impossible to visualise. Thus, numerous sonnets of Shake-
speare, large parts of Milton and Wordsworth, and many others,
are not poetry at all, for they make no attempt at all to convey
images, but are concerned with reflection or philosophy. Thus,
Walter de la Mare, when he wrote, "Dusk on the windless
casement weaves a labyrinth of flowers," would have been much
better advised to express himself in some such manner as this: "C.U.
of the casement from inside. Dusk is falling outside, and the evening
is perfectly calm. In speeded-up motion, frost-patterns (back-lit
by the remains of light outside) appear on the window-panes."

At this point Mr. Read will doubtless interpose that, although
my scene from an imaginary film scenario is clear and accurate, it
is not vivid; it does not immediately call up in the mind the image
it describes, but the mind has, of its own volition and with some
effort, to construct the image. To this I reply that vividness is not
its business; and, therefore, that even according to Mr. Read's
definition the scenario is not literature. But if the scenario is not
literature, how can the film have any connection with literature?
"To convey images," according to Mr. Read, is the object of
literature; it is also, in a somewhat different sense, the object of the
scenario; but it is certainly not the object of the film. The film is
the images, and they stand in need of no conveyance except a purely
physical one. If literature uses words to convey images, the film uses
images to convey whatever lies behind them. But in that case the
conveyance of images is not an end in itself, and therefore literature
is merely the film at second-hand.

According to Mr. Read's definition, then, it seems that Homer

34

and Shakespeare and all the rest have been merely composing
scenarios for unproduced films, and that the invention of the film
camera must eventually abolish literature altogether. This seems
to me to be an unsatisfactory position.

Another point on which I would welcome a little further
enlightenment is his definition of technique. Beethoven began
composing at the age of eleven, and his technique, according to all
the best authorities, was continually progressing up to within a few
years of his death. But Mr. Read says that most techniques can be
learnt in a few days, or at most in a year or two. We can hardly
assume that Beethoven was unusually slow-witted, so that Mr. Read
must be using the word "technique" in a different sense. Indeed,
this must be so, for he speaks as if there was only one technique for
each art. Yet one says, for example, that Manet's technique differs
from Picasso's, as if each artist had a technique of his own. I should
be greatly obliged to Mr. Read if he would assist me here. But in
any case, Mr. Read's statement that "no amount of technical
efficiency will create a work of art if the imaginative genius is lacking,"
proves nothing; for it is equally true that no amount of imaginative
genius will create a work of art if the technical efficiency is lacking.

With the exception of these few points I am in complete agree-
ment with Mr. Read's article.

HERBERT READ REPLIES

I am very grateful to Mr. Dalton for giving me an opportunity of
making myself clearer on one or two points in my rather impromptu
article on "The Poet and the Film" — it was originally delivered as
a speech. I do, of course, use "poet" in the wider sense, and not
merely as a maker of verse. This may reduce my observation to a
truism, but I think there is a distinction to be made between poetic
imagination or fancy and what I would call prosaic ingenuity or
invention, and my only purpose in using the rather doubtful word
"creative" was to imply this distinction. Once that distinction is
admitted, I think there is some sense in saying that "the film of
imagination . . . will not come until the poet enters the studio."

As for the next point, I confess that the word "single" is un-
fortunate. What I should have written was "primary" or "element-
ary." The elementary aim of writing is to convey images, and this
elementary aim remains a very essential one — even in verse, where
so many other complications enter into the question, including not
only verbal music but even legitimate effects of confused imagery,
as in Milton's metaphor. Just as poetry has elaborated this

35

elementary aim during the many centuries of its development, so,
no doubt, the film will elaborate its elementary aim — which is,
nevertheless, still the same as the aim of poetry — to convey images,
but by visual and not aural means. The distinction Mr. Dalton tries
to draw between the scenario and the film is surely irrelevant, as
though we were to try and distinguish between the words of the
poem and the images they express.

I am not so sure that Homer and Shakespeare and all the rest
did not compose scenarios for unproduced films, but the fact that
their scenarios are, incidentally, literature should relieve Mr. Dalton
of any anxiety he feels for the future of literature.

My remarks on technique were perhaps a little extreme, but
I did guard myself by saying "most" techniques, and whilst that
might include everything, from learning to ride a bicycle to producing
a film, it might still exclude Beethoven. The sense in which I use
the word 'technique" is the strict one. To speak of Manet's
technique as differing from Picasso's, or of each painter having a
technique of his own, is merely an inexact use of the word. In such
cases it is not the technique that differs, but the use made of it.

CINEMA'S INFLUENCE ON PHOTOGRAPHY

a

The movies," says E. O. Hoppe, in his introduction to Modern
Photography 1933-34 (London: Studio. 7s. 6d.), "have saved photo-
graphy in spite of itself!" Bromoil, gum-platinum, soft-focus, and
all the technique imitative of the painter's art have vanished. At
last the legitimate sphere of photography has been recognised, and
the current volume is exciting evidence of the vigour and effective-
ness of pure photography. The camera eye differs from the human
both in range of vision and mensuration of perspective, and it is the
exploitation of these differences in revealing the hidden beauty of
the commonplace that gives the new realism its artistic authenticity.
Imagism, mastery of technique, and absence of sentimentalism are
the keynotes of the collection, which contains examples from all over
the world. Can it be a still latent sentimentalism, however, which
prolongs the life of the professional model and the carefully posed
"artistic studies in the nude" which appear even in this volume?
Though beautifully produced with the Studio's customary car
it is a pity all the photographs did not receive the full value of 1
and white instead of being printed in various tints.

N. W

36

FILMS OF
THE QUARTER

FORSYTH HARDY

For the first time, it seems, British production is the most
interesting and important of the quarter. Alike in promise and
performance the news is imposing. Douglas Fairbanks has decided
to make London his headquarters for future film production
and his move, which is to be followed by other notable screen
personalities, is a further indication of the decline of Hollywood and
the growing importance of Britain as a world film centre. The films
to be produced in this country in alliance with London Film Produc-
tions and distributed in America through United Artists will
inevitably add to the prestige of the British film abroad. There is
great promise also in the new Gaumont-British programme: Red
Ensign, a story of the shipyards, is being designed as a tribute to the
Merchant Service ; Northbound is to describe the life of the men wrho
sail in the Arctic; Cecil Rhodes will give an impression of Empire
building; Men Without Work will, plainly, have a social theme; and
Mary Queen of Scots will make an interesting contribution to the
growing group of historical pictures. With projects such as these
announced, the progress of the British film becomes something to be
followed with lively expectation.

In performance also Britain's record is worthy of more note than
usual. Victor Saville's / Was a Spy and Alexander Korda's The
Private Life of Henry VIII are definite achievements. In addition to
the latter film, Korda has made The Girl from Maxim's, a witty
adaptation of a lighthearted French farce, with lovely photography
by Georges Perinal. Bitter Sweet, while not adding anything to the
stage version, is distinguished by its pictorial quality and its sense of
showmanship. And the growing enterprise of British producers is
represented by The Fire Raisers by Michael Powell, brought to the
screen while its theme is still front page news.

37

Two film cycles have developed during the quarter. There has
been a tendency in the studios to look backward into history for
film themes. In addition to Henry VIII we have seen Voltaire, a film
innocent of real historical sense and interesting only for the perform-
ance of George Arliss; and we are promised, among others, Mary
Queen of Scots, Catherine the Great, Queen Christina, Napoleon, and Nell
Gwynne. If all of those pictures are as sincere and successful as the
Henry VIII film cinemas will benefit in colour and glamour from this
renewed interest in the past. A cycle of movie-revues which opened
with the excellent Forty-Second Street has continued with Gold Diggers
°fJ933 and Moonlight and Melody, and others are in production. There
is a regrettable tendency in these new movie-revues to make capital
of the depression. Two of them are almost identical in their final
numbers, and both, with equal lack of taste, have the American
unemployed worker and the "bread line" as their theme. One is
called Dusty Feet and the other Forgotten Man.

America's cinema of the quarter has followed familiar lines.
Dinner at Eight and Tugboat Annie are exaggerated products of the star
system. Another Language and Accidents Wanted reveal a continued
dependance on the stage for material. Song of the Eagle, The Mayor of
Hell, and The Stranger's Return are variously typical of the American
movie's close contact with national life.

Apart from Laurel and Hardy, whose methods are growing
familiar, the comedians have been strangely silent, and we have
heard nothing from Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton, Jimmy Durante,
and the Marx Brothers. There is news, however, of Chaplin. Not
only is he making a new film, but he is planning to make a talkie
version of The Woman of Paris and numerous short films. It is good to
know that Chaplin is working again; it will be better when we see
the name of his new film in lights above the theatre.

Meanwhile there have been few foreign films. From Germany
came /jjuei Menschen, a tragedy set in the Tyrol, adapted from a
novel by Richard Voss and directed by Eric Waschneck. And from
from the Soviet studios came Twenty-Six Commissars, a historical
impression of the Russian revolution as it affected Baku. The latter
film has not yet been shown publicly.

38

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF HENRY VIII.

Production: London Films. Direction: Alexander Kor da. Story and Dialogue:
Lajos Biro and Arthur Wimperis. Photography: Georges Perinal. Art
Direction: Vincent Korda. With Charles Laughton, Robert Donat,
Lady Tree, Binnie Barnes, Elsa Lanchester, Merle Oberon, Franklin
Dyall, Wendy Barrie. Distribution: United Artists.

The title is important. When it is not the aim of the film to give
an impression of England during the momentous years of the
Reformation we cannot find fault with it for not having done so.
This is the private life of Henry VIII. It would have been a greater
and possibly more memorable achievement had the film attempted
to convey England's growing greatness during the Tudor period;
but national epics, despite Cavalcade, are not always the most profit-
able box-office propositions, and the lesser and safer task of popular
entertainment was preferred. While we may regret the choice in the
face of so great an opportunity, we must recognise the film's un-
qualified success within the limits of its title.

Having elected to entertain rather than to inspire, London
Films did not consequently reject sincerity or ignore historical fact.
True there are anachronisms and irreverencies which those who
like to play the game of catch-as-catch-can will discover; but these
are incidentals and do not affect the convincing historical atmosphere
of the film. Never do we think of Henry and his Court as mere
characters in a charade; and pointed references, among others, to
the King's foresight in building a huge fleet for England which was
later to triumph over the Armada, and the threat of his revenge on
Cromwell following his first meeting with the unattractive Anne of
Cleves, keep the historical sense keen. The film is composed chiefly
of episodes describing the wooing, wedding, and dismissal of Henry's
wives, though it omits Katherine of Aragon whose influence on
Henry's life is brushed aside in a sub-title, and it only hints at the
important part played by Anne Boleyn. Jane Seymour of whose
ignorance Henry is agreeably tolerant ; Anne of Cleves wrhose dowdy,
gawky person he acutely dislikes, though he comes later to respect
her intelligence; and Katheryn Howard whose youthful beauty
attracts him until her deception is proved, are more generously
described; and the film concludes with Henry, incredibly transformed
from vigorous manhood to senility in a few years, submitting com-
placently to the nagging and cosseting of Katherine Parr. One of the
finest and most revealing moments in the film is his reception of the
news of Jane Seymour's death after the birth of Edward VI.

Not surprisingly the film is made memorable by Charles Laughton's

39

immensely powerful if provocative portrait of Henry. Accurately,
I think, he shows the Tudor King to be a man of profound egotism,
with personal motives always underlying his public actions, yet
with sufficient cunning to stop short of tyranny. It is more the
emphasis of the script than of his performance that makes prominent
Henry's selfishness, cruelty, ingratitude, and sensuality; and the
grossness of the King's manners, though startling to our generation,
is doubtless true to the period. Laughton's performance, easily the
finest of his brief screen career, dominates the work of an able cast
of whom we would like to have seen more : in particular of Merle
Oberon as Anne Boleyn, Elsa Lanchester as the Ugly Duchess from
Germany, and Robert Donat as Culpeper.

In technique the film is the most polished and workmanlike yet
produced in this country. The expert hand of the artist and craftsman
is evident everywhere, from the beautiful photography of Perinal
to the smallest detail in the costumes designed by John Armstrong.
Korda's direction is a remarkable feat of controlled construction.
From so many diverse elements he has created a film which, if
inevitably episodic in development, has a distinctive and compelling
unity. The Private Life of Henry VIII gives Korda an assured place
among the important directors in contemporary cinema.

F. H.

WAS A SPY

Production: Gaumont- British. Direction: Victor Saville. Scenario: W. P.
Lipscomb. Photography: Charles van Enger. Art Direction: Alfred
Junge. Editing: Fred Smith. With Conrad Veidt, Madeleine Carroll,
Herbert Marshall, Gerald du Marnier, Edmund Gwenn, Donald
Calthrop.

When a picture evokes almost unanimous praise from the popular
writers, I always feel that we should approach the gilded shrine on
bended knees. True, Gaumont 's new opus has not been likened
unto a " mountain peak dominating the surrounding landscape,'3
yet I think it might well be described as a bump impeding the traffic
of the Strand. We have been asked so many times by our Sunday
papers to give the Gaumont boys a big hand that it must have become
a habit with we poor writers, but I must confess that Saville's new
picture brought me up with a jerk in my seat. Let me describe it.

The story is taken from the adventures of Mile. Marthe Cnockaert,
a Belgian, who nursed German wounded in the small market town
of Roulers during 191 5, for which duties she was awarded the Iron

40

Marlene Dietrich as the ingenuous model in 'The Song of Songs/' a
Paramount production, directed by Rouben Mamoulian. Whatever the
film's faults- they are largely atoned for by the beautiful photography
of Victor Milner.

From "The Rebel/' directed by Luis
Trenker and Edwin Knopf for Universal.
A period film set in the Austrian Tyrol.

Cross. Whilst thus engaged, she was persuaded to undertake
espionage work on behalf of the British, causing cylinder dumps to
be blown up and sending information which led to Allied aircraft
bombing German troops at prayer. At length, her duplicity (or
heroism, according to taste) was discovered by the Town Kom-
mandant, but she contrived to avoid the extreme penalty by amazing
good fortune. Such is the material from which the film scenario is
constructed, with suitable additions in the form of a love-interest
and a bawdy week-end at Brussels.

Here we tread carefully. As was expected, there is no attempt to
show the unvarnished truth of war nor even its stupidity. The cause
of wars is assiduously ignored, and from this view point the picture
has no social value. But, acutely self-conscious of his difficult theme,
Saville has laid the guilt of war barbarity equally with each con-
flicting army. The Germans employ poison gas in the field while the
British drop bombs on their enemies at prayer. So far, so good.
Among the opening titles, however, is a prefatory note by no less a
worthy than Winston Churchill, from which we gather that the job
of a spy is gallant, courageous, and heroic, enlisting at outset our
sympathy for Marthe and "her side." I wonder if that same tribute
would have been included had Martha been of English nationality,
for only recently it was proclaimed from every rooftop that no
Englishman, or was it Briton, could be guilty of espionage. This
apart, a final note of patriotism is struck in the closing sequence when
the British occupy the evacuated Roulers and Miss Carroll's face lights
up with ecstatic joy as the pipers lead the procession. We cry ' ' For
England and the Right."

Technically, there is much to offend if reckoning be made of the
picture's cost. Saville's camera approach is frank and industrious,
the set-ups being chosen on pictorial rather than dramatic context
grounds. When his camera drops low, I failed to observe its sig-
nificance. Admittedly, he has not been aided photographically.
The presentation of the Roulers set built at Welwyn Garden City
does not do justice to its architect. The long shots are grey and
poorly exposed. The marching of troops is dull and repetitive. Of
cutting for dramatic import I noticed little, but deplored the constant
use of wipe-dissolves to cover the weak continuity. The direction of
players seemed uncontrolled. Veidt assumed his usual dominance.
Carroll tried bravely, sometimes looked attractive, but broke down
before Veidt's superiority. Nevertheless, she remains perhaps
England's only intelligent woman star. Marshall was not permitted
to forget his canopy value, and the part might well have been given
to a lesser-known player. Of the smaller roles, I have nothing but
praise, except that Calthrop's barnstorming methods are becoming
tedious.

43

And so I raise my hat to Gaumont for attempting a film of
serious stature, but replace it when I see the spirit in which the
deed is done.

Paul Rotha.

THE SONG OF SONGS

Production: Paramount, Direction: Rouben Mamoulian. From the play by
Edward Sheldon and the novel of Hermann Sudermann. Photography:
Victor Milner. With Marlene Dietrich, Brian Aherne, Lionel Atwill,
Alison Skipworth. Distribution: Paramount.

Rouben Mamoulian must be one of the most versatile directors
at present working in Hollywood. His Applause made most of the
early back-stage films appear amateurish. City Streets saw him give an
imaginative account of gangsterdom when the last word appeared
to have been said on the gangster. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde made a
memorable addition to movie horror. In his last film, Tell Me
To-night, he surprisingly turned his back on realism and successfully
created an atmosphere of fantastic romance. Now he has made
The Song of Songs, a tender, romantic story with not a trace of the
satire found in his earlier work. This is not the great film which one
day he will make ; but the tenderness of the treatment and the depth
of understanding revealed make it outstanding.

In its essentials the story is familiar. To quote a trade paper
review, it tells of a "young country girl's love for sculptor, her
disillusionment, marriage to wealthy Baron, and tragic consequences
of meeting with former lover." But under Mamoulian's direction,
these familar elements are transformed and the film becomes a
sincere and sensitive study of a woman's love and suffering. Through
a film whose pictorial composition is consistently lovely there runs a
note of symbolism which is most noticeably evident in the climax
when the girl, disillusioned, degraded, and her simple faith distorted,
smashes the statue made of herself when first she met and fell in
love with the sculptor.

In Mamoulian's hands Marlene Dietrich gives the performance
of her career, achieving through restraint an impressiveness seldom
achieved in her former films. She is here not a vague, glamorous
creature, but a woman capable of love and understanding. In
comparison, the performances of the others appear dry and spiritless.

F. H.

44

ZOO IN BUDAPEST

Production: Fox. Supervision: Jesse L. Lasky. Direction: Rowland V. Lee.
Photography: Lee Garmes. With Loretta Young, Gene Raymond, and
0. P. Heggie. Distribution: Fox.

This is one of the best films to come from Hollywood this year
and an indication of new production ideas in the Fox studios in
Hollywood.

For about two-thirds of its length the picture has admirable
continuity, the three main threads of the boy keeper whose love for
animals urges him to steal the furs of women visitors, the orphan girl
who escapes, and the little boy who evades his nurse, being introduced,
developed, and intertwined with an almost masterly skill. The curve
continues in symmetry, with small explosions of suspense, leading
up to the theft of another fur and the breakaway of the girl from her
companions, followed by a very lovely sequence in the undergrowth
beside the lake where the girl crouches, nervous and embarrassed
about changing her uniform under the curious eyes of the waterbirds.
I cannot recall a scene of such intimacy in which mood and meaning
have been so superbly enhanced by photography. Evening falls and
mists creep over the lake as the boy keeper and the orphan girl
talk to each other for the first time, presently to wade through the
water to a disused bear pit. Not until the search for them and the
missing little boy is begun is the mood broken and sensationalism
lays ugly fingers on the theme in the form of an orgy of broken cages
and escaping wild beasts. Delightful romance is twisted into false
conclusion when the Rich Man rewards the keeper's heroism by
purchasing the orphan's freedom and making him the private keeper
of his own luxury zoo. Ethical values are horribly distorted in the
usual interests of Big Business.

Garmes' photography envelops most of the footage in a beautiful,
sentimental, and almost idyllic quality which marks an advance on
the treatment of Scarface, City Streets, and Shanghai Express. His
capacity for reflecting the mood of a sequence by lighting and
camera movement and his acute sensitivity to textures are, next to
the continuity, the real importance of the picture. The treatment of
the love scene beside the lake with its setting of pampas plumes and
silently gliding birds will certainly remain in the memory, and ranks
superior to his love scene by the waves in City Streets. Grand close-ups
of animals are seen from the camera and not the human point of
view.

Roland Lee's direction has a tenderness and attention to detail
hard to reconcile with his earlier work. What share Lee played in

45

the script is difficult to assess, but there are several touches which
merit praise and the simple dialogue is used with such economy that
the film might well have been made without it. On the other hand,
music forms an important environment to the theme and has been
well prepared in relation to the changing moods. Once again
Loretta Young provides the most perfect photographic face on the
screen and Garmes has given her full value. Gene Raymond plays
well and freshly against Heggie's nicely handled Professor, while the
minor character parts are mostly overplayed for comedy. Despite its
defects, the picture stands well in the memory.

P. R.

THE REBEL

Production: Universal. Direction: Luis Trenker and Edwin Knopf. Scenario:
Luis Trenker. Photography: Sepp Allgeier, Willi Goldberger, and
Albert Bernitz. With Luis Trenker •, Vilma Banky, and Victor Varconi.
Distribution : Universal.

This new avalanche effort may be bracketed with The Doomed
Battalion as an offshoot of the Pitz Palu and Blue Light college of
Alpine endeavour. At its London showing the photography came
in for a special Press mention, by which you may understand that it
is largely of the backlit variety and heavy over-correction which
grows tiresome by repetition. Subject in this case is period, a sort
of Sabatini-cum-Farnol affair with the familiar rebel student and
the ringleted blonde, supposedly in Austria when Napoleon's army
was in residence. There are two good hearty chases in the Western
style and an ending which probably is original — the letting loose of
huge avalanches of stone and timber on to the French army which
is passing below at the bottom of the gorge. The picture is built
round this idea. As a director of imagination, Trenker is obviously
unfamiliar with his job and is hardly more than amateurishly
capable as the hero. Presumably the exteriors are authentic and the
recording and interiors Hollywood. There is a concluding shot in
the real Laemmle tradition in which the souls of the three martyred
rebels rise from their dead bodies and go marching into the sky.

P. R.

46

CONTACT

Production : British Instructional. Direction : Paul Rotha. Distribution :
Wardour.

This description of Imperial Airways is Rotha's first film, and shows
him more mature in criticism than in production. The film is never
quite permitted to get under way. Always the critical mind of
Rotha seems to be jibbing and hedging and taking care lest the
mistakes he has recognised in others' work appear to damn his own.
The photography is too careful, the editing too studied, and sequences
of the film too altogether cerebral. A careless rapture or two would
have made his aeroplanes fly higher and faster, would have supplied
a necessary breeze to his photography, and made the contact between
continents warmer and more exciting. These criticisms are noted
only because Rotha is coming into the first line of documentary
and calls for all the heavy weather we can make for him. Even if
the photography were not as beautiful as it is, the size and scope of
Contact would make it of first importance in this year's documentary
account. The trouble with Rotha is that he doesn't think about
cinema (like Eisenstein), nor does he patently enjoy making it (like
Elton) : he worries about it. If, in his next, he forgets half of what he
knows, doesn't care much about the other half, and sets out to
enjoy his material as well as shoot it, he will do something very
exciting indeed. J. G.

WORTH NOTING

TUGBOAT ANNIE. — The comedy mixture and rough-hearted
team which delighted millions in Min and Bill will again delight
millions with a repetition of their world-famous arguments. Once
again Marie Dressier cusses to hide the sniffs and Wallace Beery
mutters in his sepulchral boots. They are inimitable. Again it's on
the waterfront, but this time they run a tugboat, and there's a son
who does proud by his fond parents and becomes a ship's captain.
In addition, there is a last-minute rescue at sea. In other words, all
the old ingredients that bring a laugh and a choke and masquerade
under the label of entertainment. It is a pity, because troupers like
Beery and Dressier do this sort of hokum standing on their heads, and
Mervyn LeRoy knows his angles too well to waste his time on such
trivialities. The slowness of the opening reel is appalling and the
subsequent repetition of situations tends to precipitate an early
departure. But it is worth staying if only to see Beery's heroic

47 ^

exploit (I am not sure exactly what he does) which is very well
staged. As with most M.G.M. pictures, there is too much Dunning
intermixed with authentic photography, and the length needs
trimming by at least a third to keep its pace. P. R.

THE STRANGER'S RETURN.— This corn-belt epic is an im-
portant contribution to a real movie renaissance that is taking place
in American cinema. Such films as State Fair, The Man Who Dared,
and The Stranger's Return are shaping a naturalistic movie. We can
forgive the tradition of movie dramatic values that has ruined the
story, and the introduction of Miriam Hopkins, for the real virtue of
attempting to record the people of the Middle West. King Vidor
has controlled the mannerisms of the stars to this purpose, and despite
the false notes in the story, Lionel Barrymore's patriarch is a sound
piece of character drawing. The Stranger's Return is a sincere attempt
to portray the lives of normal people, but box-office values and
movie traditions have been too strong for the director. The old
symbolism of Vidor is here, but he is not the man who directed
The Crowd. The racket has been too tough for him. The value of
this film is the courage of the producers in choosing a social theme.
It is a real victory when Hollywood deserts the plaster walls for the
fields and homes of Iowa. D. F. Taylor.

BITTER SWEET. — The film demonstrates more clearly than the
play that Noel Coward had little art to prostitute. Ideas and ideals
are both cheap and tawdry. As an example of direction before the
sound camera escaped from the camera booth it is excellent. Songs
are sustained on one set-up for the complete tune, and a variation
on long shot and close-up is even denied us. But the settings and
photography do deserve praise. Fred Young's camera work is
comparable to that of Lee Garmes in its velvety blacks and graduated
half-tones. Particularly noteworthy is the delightful lighting of
faces. Sets (L. P. Williams) and costumes (Doris Zinkeisen) are lovely
in their suggestion and reveal a very close co-operation between art
director and cameraman. For the definitely imaginative camera work
and setting Bitter Sweet marks a real advance on anything yet produced
in England. D. F. T.

TWENTY-SIX COMMISSARS.— This belongs to the historical
school of Soviet films, and in subject and technique may be classified
with The End of St. Peter sburgh, Ten Days, and Potemkin. Against a
background of oil derricks and sand dunes, the film tells of the

48

revolution in Baku, the British intervention, the arrest and murder
of the twenty-six leaders of the Baku Soviet. This, unfortunately,
is a silent film, for the first two reels, at least, lend themselves to
dialogue treatment. These two reels are interior shots of a meeting
where the conflicting tendencies of the people towards the inter-
vention find expression. The sequence is shot with considerable
imagination, but titles are insufficient. Later, when action replaces
talk, the absence of dialogue is welcome. The drama moves along
swiftly, unhampered by that microphone consciousness which still
seems to paralyse some Soviet directors.

Two other sequences are notable — a civil riot building up from
the smallest of incidents, and the final massacre of the commissars
in the desert — a sequence which is handled with a real feeling for
the drama of the event. The utter callousness of the massacre is
equalled by the quiet stoicism of the revolutionaries.

Twenty-six Commissars was directed by Shengelaya. His selection
of types is superb. So also is the camera work. The censor will
never allow this film to be publicly exhibited in Britain, although
it is true. Film societies ought to show it. Ralph Bond.

SPRING ON THE FARM.— This background educational film,
produced by the E.M.B. Film Unit and directed by Evelyn Spice, is
a good journalistic account of Spring. Cut and designed for children,
it is naturally slow in tempo, though the numbers of young animals
will stir the fundamental sentimentalisms of English and Scots in any
cinema. Photography is notably competent, and shows that there
is as much value in a white sky as in blue sky with cumulus clouds.

D. F. T.

Mickey's Gala Premiere. — In a Miscellany note in the summer
number I suggested that the drawn film was capable of much wider
development and that it might easily be used as a medium for
caricature. As if in illustration of the suggestion, Walt Disney has
made this burlesque of a Hollywood premiere in which he introduces
caricatures of the stars. Mischievously but not bitterly, he pictures
the people of the studios — Greta Garbo, Douglas Fairbanks, Chaplin,
Marie Dressier, the Barrymores and the rest — and subtly satirises
their peculiarities as they react variously to Mickey's antics on the
screen. Disney is one of the few really individual artists in films,
and his work is nearer to cinema proper than that of most orthodox
directors. His break into caricature is further proof of his brilliantly
imaginative mind and his devotion to the cause of development
through experiment. F. H.

49

FILM SOCIETIES

OXFORD UNIVERSITY
FILM SOCIETY

The Society owes a debt of gratitude both for its origin and for
its present flourishing condition to its founders, Hugh Carleton
Greene and James Gibson. In January 1931 they obtained from the
University Proctors permission (hitherto withheld) to start a film
society on the condition that they did not attempt to make films
themselves. Since that time the Society has continued to hold twelve
meetings a year, or four a term.

Meetings are held on Sundays, and do much to enliven the
deadness of Sunday evenings. A drawback to this is the difficulty
of fixing up a programme which shall last exactly two hours ; but
since meetings continue during the Trinity term we are perhaps the
only Society that does not have a "season," but shows films through-
out the year. That this policy is in the circumstances a sound one
is proved by the fact that there is very little fluctuation in the Society's
strength, which has since the beginning remained pretty steadily in
the region of three hundred members.

The first, and to those original members who saw it perhaps the
most unforgettable programme, was shown in the local Masonic
Hall, and consisted of The Seas he 11 and The Clergyman, Chaplin's Fatal
Mallet, and The Battleship Potemkin. A promising start, especially in
view of the fact that The Seashell aroused such a controversy and
remained the subject of such heated conversation during the fortnight
intervening between that meeting and the next, that it must have
contributed invaluably to the encouragement of hesitating prospective
members.

They certainly needed encouragement. For a whole term we
endured the discomforts of small hard chairs and the inconveniences
of a single more or less silent projector accompanied by a gramophone
which would keep running down. But the pioneer spirit wanes in
Oxford as swiftly as it waxes, and it is doubtful if even the continued

50

From "The House of Death" a
Moschrabpom - Film production
(U.S.S.R.), directed by W. F.
Federow, depicting the career
and banishment of Feodor
Dostoevski under Nicholas I., the
part of Dostoevski is taken by
ChmeliofF of the Moscow Arts
Theatre.

From 'Fugitives/7 a Ufa film made under the
new Stapenhorst regime. Directed by Gustav
Ucicky, it deals with the exodus of the Volga
Germans during the Russian Revolution. The
cast includes Hans Albers and Kathe von Nagy.

excellence of those first programmes — The Student of Prague, Faust,
Bed and Sofa — would have been able to preserve the life of the young
Society but for its transference at the first meeting of the next term
from the barren Hall into a comfortable cinema. The Electra
Palace had been newly equipped for sound and the Society soon
celebrated its removal by showing talkies. A memorable evening
was one of the hottest of the summer of 1 93 1 on which Hallelujah
was shown.

Since then it has been the Society's policy to procure the latest
continental productions as soon as they become available, and to
vary them with an occasional outstanding film of the silent period.
Turksib, Earth, The Ghost that Never Returns, The Passion of Joan of Arc,
Caligari, and The Italian Straw Hat fairly represent our programmes
in the silent class; and Quick Millions, Princess a Vos Ordres, The
Murder of Karamazov, En Natt, and Maedchen in Uniform in the other.

The Society does not interest itself very deeply in the theoretical
side of the cinema. In fact, the only speaker who has so far visited
us is Anthony Asquith, who at the second meeting gave us some of
his ideas on the use of sound.

Last term, the officers were fortunate in bringing off a unique
coup by showing Paris Mediterranee almost the moment it was landed
in this country. Certainly they can claim to be the first to put the
film through an English projector. With this as their final bow,
Mr. Greene and Mr. Gibson put an end to the first and most en-
couraging stage of the Society's life by resigning their respective
offices of President and Secretary, and thus give us leave to sign our-
selves in their place.

B. H. de C. Ireland.
A. D. Woozley.

The Film Society, London, has decided to extend the rate of
subscription, hitherto available only to film technicians employed
at a salary not exceeding £10, to all students of accredited educational
institutions who are over sixteen years of age. The new rate is 15s.,
including tax. Events on the continent have complicated the work
of selecting the films to be shown this season, but among the films
from which a final selection will be made are: The Deserter, Ivan,
Komsomol, Twenty-Six Commissars, An American Tragedy, Blackshirts,
La Maternelle, Anna and Elizabeth, S.A. — Mann Brand. Application
for membership should be made to Miss J. M. Harvey, 56 Manchester
Street, London, W. 1 .

53

Birmingham Film Society hopes to have another successful season.
The Hon. Secretary is S. G. Hawes, 163 Pershore Road, Birming-
ham, 5. Performances will be held in the Scala Cinema and the
subscription is 10s. 6d.

Cheshire Film Society (Hon. Sec. Miss Diana Baerlin, Whatcroft
Hall, Northwich, Cheshire), commenced its season on 14th September
with Bluebottles, The Spider and the Fly, and War is Hell. Eight monthly
performances are to be given on Sundays at the Plaza, Northwich.

Croydon Film Society (Hon. Sec. R. H. Muxlow, 16 Northampton
Road, Croydon). Monthly performances are to be held on Sunday
afternoons in the Picture House, North End. The subscription is
17s. 6d. An inaugural meeting on 22nd October will be addressed
by Anthony Asquith and Paul Rotha.

Edinburgh Film Guild (17 South St. Andrew Street, Edinburgh, 2).
Victor Saville opens the new season with an address on 1 6th October
and the first performance will be given on Sunday, 29th October,
when Der Hauptmann von Kopenick will be shown.

Glasgow Film Society (Hon. Sec. D. Paterson Walker, 127 St.
Vincent Street, Glasgow, C.2). Cranston's, a still larger cinema,
has been booked for this season, which opens on 15th October with
The Virtuous Isadore. Victor Saville will be present at this meeting and
will address the Society.

Leeds Film Group (Hon. Sec. Jackson Braham, 43 Mexborough
Drive, Leeds, 7). With already two successful seasons to its credit
this Society hopes to remove shortly from its present private theatre,
which seats only one hundred, to larger premises. During the
summer months it has shown The Girl in the Moon, Nina Petrovna,
and Turksib. Discussions and meetings for lectures are held
periodically. The Group is also building up a library of film literature
and has commenced an indexed information bureau.

Leicester Film Society (Hon. Sec. E. Irving Richards, Vaughan
College, Leicester). Two performances are held on Saturday
evenings once a month, the subscription being 10s. 6d. for the
8.15 performance and 7s. 6d. for the 6 p.m. performance. The first
show will be given on 21st October when it is hoped to screen
Der Hauptmann von Kopenick. Arrangements have been made with
John Grierson to give a course of lectures on "The Art of Cinema
and its Social Relationships."

54

Manchester and Salford Workers' Film Society (69 Liverpool
Street, Salford). Performances in future will be given in the Rivoli,
Rusholme, on Saturdays at 4 p.m. The first show of the season was
given on 23rd September, when En Natt, Voice of the World, and
Technocracy were included in the programme. The subscription is
10s.

Oxford City Film Society (Hon. Sec. Mrs. Hilda Harrisson,
Sandlands, Boars Hill, Oxford). The first exhibition of this new
society will be given early in November. The subscription for eight
Sunday performances will be 10s.

West Ham Film Society (Hon. Sec. Arthur L. Watson, 9 First
Avenue, Plaistow). In course of organisation this new society,
which will be run on lines similar to others throughout the country,
should draw a large membership from the populous district it will
serve.

B.H.F.S. (Hon. Sec. M. Hatzfeld, 42 Windermere Avenue, Brondes-
bury, London, N.W.6). Another new society, with a cryptic name,
which intends to give a season of four performances with two sub-
scriptions, 1 os. and 5s. 6d. Among the films it is hoped to show are:
The Girl in the Moon, City of Song, The Wonderful Lie, Hungarian
Rhapsody, and Murder.

Merseyside Film Institute Society. Arrangements for the season
include the showing of Don Quixote, Contact and other films, a
lecture by Paul Rotha, an exhibition of stills and an amateur film
competition. Further developments of the Society include the
arranging of children's matinees, the formation of a film club, and
the encouragement of production groups. The Bishop of Liverpool
is President and the Hon. Treasurer is Ingram Knowles, District
Bank, Port Sunlight.

Lincoln. Frank Carlill, 84 Ruskin Avenue, Lincoln, is endeavouring
to form a local film society and would welcome inquiries and
support.

The League of Nations Union in Great Britain has appointed
David F. Ritchie special Cinema Representative. Lists of recom-
mended films are sent periodically to members, and in districts
where there is a film society local branches are advised to enter into
close co-operation.

55

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Telephone: GERRARD 6336 (4 lines).
Telegrams: BIOSCOPE, LESQUAR, LONDON.

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Conrad Veidt in "I was a Spy," a
Gaumont British production, directed
by Victor Saville.

Two films directed by Paul Rotha.
Above from " Contact/' the British
Instructional film of Imperial Airways.

Below, from " Roadwards," the Daimler
car film produced by British
Independent Productions.

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THE INDEPENDENT
FILM-MAKER

NO MORE FILM PLAYS!

ERIC M. KNIGHT

After many years of writing on cinema I have begun to despair
of revolt against screen-pap coming from within the industry itself.
I consider Hollywood and recall the broken hopes of Eisenstein,
Stiller, Murnau, Flaherty, Dudley Murphy, and the other able men
who were battered by the system there.

The crystallization of the film method must come from outside
commercial ranks. More and more I am convinced that the 16 mm.
film is the avenue to progress.

The tremendous cost of modern tone-film production raises an
insurmountable barrier before the young would-be creator in
celluloid. But the sub-calibre film offers him an inexpensive field in
which to work.

The amazing lack of good sub-calibre film work is not due, as is
commonly supposed, to the machines now available. I find it due
almost solely to lack of imagination on the part of the workmen in the
narrow-film field. Give a cinema group a supply of film stock and
usually it will try to produce a "play" in imitation of Hollywood.
If the world didn't produce another film-play for five years we'd still
be over-supplied. Shoot sonatas of leaves and grass, tone-poems of
clouds and water, gavottes in abstract shape, documentaries of the
machines you toil at and the land you live in! But don't shoot a
play!

The greatest need, as I see it, for progress in the narrow-film
field, is for greater technical knowledge on the part of the creator.
Generally the artist detests anything that smacks of figures and tables;
yet cinema is art-through-machinc and it must be studied. You
may have the finely sensitive eye that can see a camera-angle,
frame a composition, see the delight of splashed sunlight and half-lit
shadows; but that's only the beginning. If you won't learn to use a

61

photometer, to set the right stop, to handle your filters, you'd better
go back to pencil-sketching.

In fact, the best workman will go beyond his needs and will
start at once to do his own laboratory work. For the one great
drawback of the sub-calibre film at this time is the use of reversal
stock — i.e., stock that is developed by the film maker into a positive.
You send the exposed film back to the maker. In some factories
your film is machine-developed — by a machine that automatically
labours to iron out all the fades that you slaved to get.

To record on negative stock, to develop and print it yourself,
immediately makes your medium flexible; the grace of dissolves,
superimpositions, the entire possibilities of montage, are then avail-
able. Under these conditions the rank amateurishness of the sub-
calibre film disappears, and in truth you can attain all the technical
perfection of the standard film of commercial cinema — and even
more.

The sub-calibre film as a field for the film-artist is now being
enriched by the 16 mm. sound-cameras.

Two years ago the American Society of Motion Picture Engineers
declared publicly that 16 mm. sound-on-film was impossible.
Recently I made a film with the "impossible" camera created by
RCA- Victor. Still in the experimental stage at that time, still full
of many "bugs," the camera could fulfil its major destiny: it could
record sound with all the fidelity of any ten thousand dollar Holly-
wood apparatus. Speech recorded perfectly; music recordings were
surpassed only by the lately developed "High Fidelity" and "Wide
Range" systems now used in Hollywood, wThich record overtones
in the extremely high and extremely low cycles.

The only drawback to the coming sound cameras in the narrow-
film field is lack of flexibility. They are produced for the amateur
who wants to take a picture of little Nancy singing "Oats, peas,
beans, and barley grows." Recording again is on the rigid reversal
film stock, and there is no means of post-synchronization of sound.
In other words, it is a talkie-camera — and what the film-creator
needs is a tone-film camera; one that records on negative stock and
which will thus allow all conceivable variations of sight-images and
sound-images that are corelated at the desire of the artist in the
printing.

Possibly the construction of such cameras must be worked out by
ingenious amateurs who will guide the mass-production men much
as radio amateurs were always far ahead of the industrial radio-
builders in the earlier days of development.

But whether in sound or in silence, the narrow film field offers a
chance to those young men who groan at the vulgarity and artistic
sterility of the movie industry's product.

62

There are clubs, schools, and homes, all with 16 mm. projectors.
The present supply of 16 mm. films is pretty poor, and I see no great
reason for making those projectors grind merrily. There are reissues
of Hollywood films in stock at movie camera stores — if that cheers
you up. But, apart from the remarkable Fall of the House of Usher, I
know of no sub-calibre film that is worth showing twice.

The would-be film creator on both sides of the Atlantic would do
well to bottle up the energy now expended on impotent hate of
Hollywood and its screen lollipops. That energy could be better
expended upon production of good sub-calibre films; in formation of
a central bureau to distribute such pictures to the clubs, schools,
and homes that need them. Thus the public, fed for years on the
dope of sex-stories, could be made to realise that the screen can give
us something far more stirring and vital than Cocktail Hour or Gold
Diggers 0/1933.

AMATEUR PRODUCTION IN IRELAND

Dublin — traditionally one of the intellectual centres of the British
Isles — has, up to the present, held itself aloof from films. It is
true that Dublin goes to the pictures more than almost any other
city of its size, and the Dublin audiences are notoriously critical,
especially of acting. Nevertheless, intellectual Dublin occupies itself
with other things, and hardly knows that the cinema claims a place
among the arts.

Recently, however, there have been signs of a changed attitude,
and a few films have been made by amateurs — notably By Accident,
which was composed and directed by J. N. G. Davidson. The latest
and most promising of these, at present in course of production, is
Guests of the Nation, from Frank O'Connor's book of the same name,
dealing with the Anglo-Irish War of 1922. It is directed by Denis
Johnston ("E. W. Tocher") the author of several interesting and
original plays. The scenario applies a technique modelled on the
classical Russian style to a subject for which it is perfectly suited. In
particular, its continuity (the bugbear of the amateur) is surprisingly
mature. The cast is drawn largely from the experienced personnel
of the Dublin Gate Theatre Company. Assistance given by the
Saorstat Government has included the loan of two armoured cars
and an empty police barracks. The production is arousing con-
siderable interest, and, whether it succeeds or fails artistically, will
undoubtedly stimulate others to make use of the material which lies
ready to hand in such abundance.

G. F. D.

63

TWO INDUSTRIAL FILMS

ROADWAYS. — Direction: Paul Rotha. Photography: Jack Parker.
Produced by Paul Rotha for the B.S.A. and Daimler Companies under
the supervision of Western Electric. HUMBER-HILLMAN. —
Direction: Jack B. Holmes. Photography : Jimmy Rogers. Produced
by Steuart Films for the Humber-Hillman Car Company,

Together these two films indicate a new spirit in advertising films.
They are directed with sincerity, a rare thing in this side of the
business. In common with all advertising films they suffer from
concessions made to the advertiser. For instance, Rotha's film
shows every process in the Daimler works, thus leaving little space
for emphasis or construction within the limits of his two reels ; while
Holmes has had to omit the final assembly of cars and jump straight
into the open road from the chassis assembly in order that the film
should be perennially useful to his advertiser, that is to say, so that
the advertiser can tack on shots of his new models each year. Both
films are concerned with motor car manufacture, but the virtues of
one are by no means the virtues of the other.

Roadwards has two themes. First there is the story of the country
and industry linked by roads and the factory providing the means
of getting to the country; and secondly, more importantly, there
is the story of the workmen who make the cars, the workers behind
the machine. For the first time we have a commercial advertising
film interested in humanities. The most significant sequence in the
film is in the smithy, the drop-hammer forging, where Rotha has
enlarged on the process, creating imaginatively and not hurrying
on to the next stage. The fault of the whole film is the snip-snap
from one process to another that makes the film run instead of
marching and building. It constitutes, however, a real advance
on Contact, there being a greater appreciation of movie values,
though the drop-hammer forging sequence is the only one in which
Rotha has given himself a chance to construct. Pictorially the film
is full of good looks, the lighting of factory processes being imaginative
and controlled.

Jack Holmes' picture is a solid initial job, but he is yet to master
the whole bag of movie tricks. To advance in documentary he
must learn to build upon themes. He must be more interested in
the man behind the machine, in the internal aspect rather than the
external. On the whole his film has been more thought out than
Rotha's, but his form approximates too closely to symphonies (vide
John Grierson, Cinema Quarterly, Vol. i, No. 2). It is not enough
to hang your film on the idea of the song of the wheel. Humber-

64

Hillman is homogenous, and the opening into the factory has a
very happy smoothness. Photography is standard; that is to say,
it is uninspired, it gives no value to the machine. Holmes is content
to flat-light a subject, intent on just lighting, not on creating a
mood or effect to reveal some new aspect of his subject. This leads
him into an inability to seize the significant detail in a process.
His faults will be overcome with a closer acquaintance with the
medium.

Both films should be noted as the beginning of a new attitude to
advertising films.

Donald Fraser.

NEWS REEL

According to reports emanating Irom New York, says the American
Cinematographer, there is in formation a corporation for the furnishing
of 1 6 mm. sound pictures to approximately two thousand theatres
now closed. The plan calls for portable projectors with a complete
programme on a four-thousand-feet reel, consisting of feature,
cartoon, and travelogue. It is anticipated a show of this nature
will call for a rental of from ten to twenty dollars.

It is the contention that these 16 mm. programmes will not
interfere with the professional-sized pictures, and that negotiations
are going on with Paramount and Fox for releases.

An experiment in providing films suitable for children in villages
where there are no cinemas has recently been made by B. D. Mar-
gerison, of Bradford, at Northewram in Yorkshire. A two hours'
performance, given in the schoolroom, included travel and in-
structional films and two comedies, all on 16 mm. stock (silent).
Admission charges were 2d. and 4d. for children and 6d. for adults.
If sufficient support is forthcoming it is hoped to make a regular
round of villages, visiting them weekly or fortnightly.

A record of the Everest Expedition, made by Wyn Harris, who
had no previous film experience, has been produced with a £40
Kodak camera. The film, which lasts for seventy-five minutes, is a
valuable document, and as the 16 mm. stock on wThich it was made
cost only £30 it should do much to encourage amateur production
when it comes to be publicly shown.

The aims of the Socalist Film Council, London, is to produce for
the Labour Movement 16 mm. films of propaganda value. Its first
film, The Road to Hell, directed by Rudolph Messel, is reviewed in
this issue. What the News Reel Doesn't Show, its second film, shows

65

work on the Five-Year Plan in Russia. These films are silent, but
the next production, an anti-war film, will be a talkie. The personnel
of the Council includes Rudolph Messel, Terence Greenidge, Ray-
mond Postgate and Naomi Mitchison.

Regent additions to the Pathescope 9-5 mm. library include Arthur
Robinson's The Informer, Chaplin's The Count, and Fritz Lang's
The Spy. The famous Ufa film Faust will be added shortly.

The new advertising films for the Morris Car Company have been
produced by the company's own unit, most of whom have other
jobs in the works at Cowley. Six talkies have now been completed
and will be shown throughout the country by four travelling pro-
jector units.

Two new books published by Pitman contain much practical infor-
mation of a technical nature for the amateur. " Commercial Cinema-
tography," by George H. Sewell (7s. 6d.), deals with the sub-standard
film for those who wish to make personal films of their own business
undertakings, and "Amateur Talking Pictures and Recording," by
Bernard Brown (7s. 6d.), describes and examines the various equip-
ments now available for making sound films.

Societies and schools using 9-5 mm. films will find the new Pathe-
scope 200B projector worth inspection. With a 200-watts lamp
and powerful lenses it gives an excellently clear picture ten feet wide.

The Scenario Service, formerly conducted by Cinema Quarterly, has
now been taken over by the Independent Film-makers Association.
Will subscribers who still have MSS. which they do not intend to
use, please return them immediately?

MOBILE PRODUCTION UNIT

A new service which should interest independent film-makers is
the mobile production unit belonging to Photographic Art Pro-
ductions. The unit is entirely self-contained and may be used
either for studio or location work. Provision is made to accommodate
up to nine mute cameras. Condenser microphones are used, and
the truck is provided with cables which can operate up to 200 feet
from the microphones. The truck and crew, including camera-
man and recording engineer, may be hired per day or week, and
a studio in Wardour Street is available for post-synchronising and
interior work. If it were more generally known that facilities of
this sort are available independent and amateur producers might
be encouraged to embark on more ambitious productions.

66

THE ROAD TO HELL

Production: Socialist Film Council. Direction and Photography: Rudolph
Messel. With Naomi Mitchison, Terence Greenidge, Raymond Postgate,
Ian Fox.

To start with let mc cast a large and heavy brickbat at this
production. It alleges to be propaganda against the Means Test.
If it is propaganda for anything it is propaganda for the worst type
of defeatism. If the wTorking classes of England behave as the
particular family in this film does under the pressure of bad govern-
ment and worse administration, there is no hope for anyone, and
the Bishop of Durham is right.

Passing, however, to technicalities this production (sixteen mm.,
amateur throughout, cost £66) is a first-class object lesson to
every film group or independent amateur in the country. It is
well constructed, well acted, well cut, well lit, and well directed.
It has economy of movement and largesse of effect. And incidentally
it introduces a fine movie-actor — Terence Greenidge.

Film groups, please see this film and learn something from Messel's
work.

B. W.

SIGHT

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It is of great interest to every thinking person, as it
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The Independent Film-Makers Association has been formed
to bring together and assist those who are interested in the
production of Documentary, Experimental, and Educational
films.

CO-OPERATIVE EFFORT

The Association will put members in touch with each
other and where practicable will arrange that several
members, though living in different parts of the country,
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treatment, photography, editing and every aspect of film-
making is available on application, in the first instance, to
the Hon. Secretary.

REVIEWS OF FILMS

Certain of the Advisers have agreed to review members'
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in the official organ of the Association.

FILM EXCHANGE

A catalogue of films made by members will be prepared and
circulated. A suitable rental will be charged to non-members.
Where possible the Association will endeavour to find a
market for the production of its members.

SCENARIO SERVICE

Scenarios which meet the requirements of the objects of
the Association may be entered in the Scenario Service.
Manuscripts will be available for production by members
free of charge, but suitable fees will be asked from non-
members. A list of themes and subjects required by
commercial firms and educational organizations will be
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INFORMATION BULLETIN

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This will contain the names and addresses of all members
as enrolled and confidential information regarding the
various activities of the Association.

SUMMER SCHOOL

It is proposed to hold each year at least one Summer
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making. From time to time it is also intended to arrange
demonstrations of apparatus and exhibitions of films.

OFFICIAL ORGAN

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which will contain in each issue a special section devoted
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for Autumn

A CRITIQUE- - By Ezra Pound

AN ESSAY - - By John Vincent Healy

POETRY - - - By Carl Rakosi and William Carlos Williams

SHORT STORIES By Benjamin Appel, Glenn Ward Dresbach,

and James Larwood

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V/lNTER

1933-34

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ERIC M ^HT
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Pathescope Lux Projector— Excellent work-
ing order. Complete with Case, Resistance
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Below

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order. Complete with Hermagis Lens, Resist-
ance and Case. £9 cost £24. Also 2 Krauss
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with Resistance, 2-inch Lens and carrying case
as new. £12 cost double. Below

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WANTED. — Second-hand, reliable 35 mm.
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CINEMA QUARTERLY

Edited by NORMAN WILSON Review Editor: FORSYTH HARDY

London Correspondent: PAUL ROTHA

Associate Correspondents: 1). V. Taylor, J. S. Fairfax-Jones.
U.S.A.: Eric M. Knight. France: Alexander Werth. Holland:
J. Hulsker. Belgium-. Ludo Patris. Czechoslovakia: Karel Santar.
India: R. k. Rele. Australia : Leon S.Stone. South Africa: H. R.
van der Poel. Ireland: (i. F. Dalton. Japan: Shinko Mizuno

And Correspondents in Russia. Germany, Italy and Scandinavia.

Vol. 2, No. 2.

CONTENTS

THE SPECTATOR. Nonuau Wilson .

THE FUNCTION OF THE DIRECTOR (1) Paul Rotha

ALFRED HITCHCOCK ON MUSIC IN FILMS.

In (in Interview with Stephen Walls

FILM AND RADIO. Rudolf Arnheim .

SYNTHETIC AMERICA. Eric M. Knight

SCREEN MAGAZINES. J). F. Taylor

COMMERCIAL DOCUMENTARY. II. Bruce Woolfe .

A SOVIET WRITER TAKES TO CINEMA. Alexander Werth

THE FILM IN SOUTH AFRICA. //. A', van der Poel .

MISCELLANY. John Grierson, P. R., Thomas Simms

FILMS OF THE QUARTER. Forsyth Hardy, Paul Rotha,

Campbell Nairne ....
FILM SOCIETIES .....

THE INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER. The Film on Paper. Stuart Legg

Winter 1933-34

75
78

80

84

87

93

96

101

. 104

. 106

I). F.

Taylor,

112
126

129

Editorial ami Publishing Offices: 24 N.W Thistle Street Lane, Edinburgh, 2.
rdephone: 20425. Telegrams: Tricolour, Kdmlniigh.

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Telephone : ( \t\ raid 6456.

Subscription Rates: Great Britain, 4s. 6d. Abroad, 7s. 6d. Post free for one year.

Back numbers of Volume One may still be had, price 2s. 2d. each, post free.
All business communications should be addressed to the Manager, G. 1>. Robinson.

Modern
Aids to
Education

There are British Acoustic

cinematograph equipments

to meet the needs of every

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Standard Silent Projectors.

Standard Sound Projectors.

Standard Portable (35 mm.) Sound Projectors.

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Full Information and Expert Advice

G.B. EQUIPMENTS, Ltd.

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Telephone: (ierrard 9292

THE SPECTATOR

FILM TERMINOLOGY

The loose use of loose terms is characteristic of an art not yet
hampered with academics. But an attempt must be made some
time, and the sooner the better, to rationalise the phraseology of
cinema — its technical terms, the names of its species, and the de-
finition of its functions. Some of the soundest writers on the film
are unintelligible to the ordinary reader because of the jargon they
use. Conservative Sunday newspapers and staid reviews, where
even colloquialism is frowned upon, bewilder the reader accustomed
to plain English when he comes to the cinema feature. Nor are our
own pages exempt. Every writer has his own terminology, and it
frequently happens that one exponent will use the same word as
another when in fact he means something entirely different.

"Documentary" is perhaps the most abused word of all. It is
used variously and mistakenly for educational, cultural (if anyone
knows even what that means), propagandist, travelogue, interest,
industrial, descriptive, and even advertising (x shillings a foot, go
anywhere, shoot anything).

The word might have come to mean any of these things, though
it could never mean them all. But it belongs properly to the genre
to which it was first attached. And it is the association of the word
with this genre that has given it the prestige which other users so
much covet. Documentary proper is an art form as distinct as
verse from prose and should no more be confused with the lecture
film, the screen magazine, or Secrets of Nature than they are with
studio dramatics. Perhaps the best definition of documentary is
that once given by John Grierson in these pages: the creative treat-
ment of actuality. Documentary does not merely describe, it inter-
prets— using the living scene and the living story as opposed to the
artificial scene and the acted story. Had this confusion in terms
not arisen we might indeed have been spared the arty photography
and pseudo-symphonic structure which have ruined so many
educational and descriptive films.

THE PICTURE'S THE THING

Apart from such elementals the trouble in coining a word, as in

creating a technique, in films, is that it may so soon become obsolete.

The cinema should be the last home of dogmatism. Is not tele-

75

4-

vision ready to be put on the market at the opportune momen ?
When the electric camera arrives what will happen to montage?
And what of colour? And stereoscopy? The theorist in cinema has
little time to gain a foothold before some new development sends
his dogmas hurtling into the abyss of the forever-discarded. The
film does not develop as painting, music, or literature have developed.
It changes. It is dependent on the scientist and the engineer for
its very existence. Its tools do not evolve in a gradual process of
improvement. They are liable to be replaced with disturbing
suddenness, requiring a complete re-orientation of ideas and the
learning of an entirely new technique. Yet did not Homer exist
before the printed word? And is not fine poetry still hammered
out on the modern typewriter? The poet uses words to convey
ideas; the film-maker uses images. No matter how much the
mechanical production of pictures changes, cinema, if it continues
at all, must still mean visual expression. Whatever its size or its
frame or its colour the picture will remain the thing.

LITERATURE AND THE FILM

We have"" long complained of the influence of literature and the
stage on the film. It was refreshing therefore to come across, in a
little book of critical essays called "Gog Magog" (London: Dent,
7s. 6d.), a brief consideration of the influence of the film on literature
and the drama. G. W. Stonier, the author of this modest "anatomy
of modernism," points out how playwrights and novelists have tried
deliberate imitation. 'Street Scene," "Grand Hotel,"" Stamboul
Train," "42nd Parallel," are all undisguised efforts at cinema
technique. The stage, in attempted retaliation perhaps, has its
revolving platforms, and, as in "Hatter's Castle," its divided pro-
scenium. Then there is the literary close-up, which Stonier finds
in the writings of James Joyce, Wyndham Lewis, Dos Passos, and
many other contemporary authors, when the distance between the
reader and each of the characters in the novel is liable to shift.
Writers, he says, now have a greater sense of visual property. This
is not a new realisation, however, for the aim of writing has always
been to convey images by means of words; but the cinema has
brought this home afresh. Imagism and impressionism have both
received new stimulus from the film, though how far the influence
has been direct it would be difficult to estimate. And had the
anatomist also examined painting and photography he would have
found the influence of the cinema apparent in new angles of approach
and in the revelation of the hidden beauty in the commonplace.
All of which goes to prove that, after all, we cannot take our

76

cinema too seriously. In any case, did not H. G. Wells say years
ago that on the screen "a more subtle fabric of suggestion, a com-
pleter beauty and power, might be possible than any of our tried
and trusted equipment could achieve"?

WORDS AND MUSIC

So far the film may have had little influence on the development
of contemporary music, but the ideas Alfred Hitchcock discusses
in this issue of Cinema Quarterly may ultimately have far-reaching
effects. For some time the virtue of the spoken word has been in
doubt. The hundred-per-cent. talkie is no more, and even Holly-
wood is beginning to use words selectively and even impressionisti-
cally, instead of in the name of realism. Hitchcock did this in his
first talkie in the early days, and if his ideas on music when put into
practice create a like sensation, there is no saying what may happen.
Whether music and film are made to march in the same rhythm,
or whether speech, sound, and image are used to build up an orches-
trated unity, the music must be specially composed, and it is likely
that the musical director of a film will soon be of primary, if not of
paramount, importance.

May all the gods forbid the filming of classical opera. A sixteen-
stone Romeo trying to embrace a voluminous Juliet is bad enough
on the stage — spare us the close-up! There is, however, enormous
possibility in the development of true cine-opera as an entirely new
medium, conceived as a whole and executed in unity of sound and
image. This is an exciting subject to which we hope to return later.

Meanwhile, who would not give all the mighty Wurlitzers to
have Fischinger's musical abstracts established as the entr'acte?

SUB-STANDARD PRODUCTION

Correspondents continually ask how to gain practical experience
in film-making when opportunities of entering the studios are so
slight. The obvious and soundest reply is: Buy a sub-standard
camera or join a group engaged in sub-standard production. Learn
to handle film, to know the smell and the feel of celluloid : get hold
of a pair of scissors, and cut and splice, cut and splice till you can
make the frames march in rhythm. Xo amount of theory is of
value unless backed by practice of this sort. Get it at any price.

Norman Wilson.

77

THE FUNCTION
OF THE DIRECTOR

1. THE DOCUMENTARY DIRECTOR

PAUL ROTHA

A director goes documentary by choice and not coincidence. In
so doing he seeks to serve his conscience and avoid the cupidity of
story-film as it flourishes under most studio conditions.

Documentary defines not subject or style, but approach.

It denies neither trained actors nor the advantages of staging.
Ir justifies the use of every known technical artifice to gain its effect
on the specator.

Two courses are open to the director of documentary. He may
seek themes and material at the ends of the earth in the manner
of a Flaherty; or he may face the problems of the community around
him in the manner of a Grierson. The choice is personal. These two
names plot the extremities of the dramatised documentary as distinct
from the descriptive style favoured by the lesser lights of the racket.

To the documentary director the appearance of things and
people is only superficial. It is the meaning behind the thing and
the significance underlying the person that occupy his attention.
To the documentary approach every manufacture, every organisa-
tion, every industry, every craft represents at one point or another
the fulfilment of a human interest.

Documentary approach to cinema differs from that of story-
film not in its disregard for craftsmanship, but in the purpose to
which that craftsmanship is put. Documentary is a trade just as
carpentry or pot-making. As a trade its technique must be mastered
if the product is to be valuable and have meaning. But technique
alone is not sufficient.

A film must serve a purpose beyond itself if it is to survive. It
may serve entertainment (as the studio producers dictate), it may
serve propaganda (as the publicists demand), or it may serve art
as the highbrows pretend), but it cannot be an end in itself.

Because documentary is in its infancy and because production is
largely (but not wholly) made possible by serving propagandist ends,
the publicist himself is the main enemy of the director. Because
cinema is everyone's plaything to criticise for good or bad, your
publicist will demand the inclusion of this or the exclusion of that
to the prostitution of your conscience.

78

Therefore, three demands must be made by the documentarv
director: the right to theorise, the right to experiment (time and
footage), and the right to attempt to satisfy his conscience. He mav
have to travel to sacrificial lengths to obtain these rights. Becaux-
he must look to the future he will try to satisfy the publicist's de-
mands, perhaps produce a bad film thereby, and get kicked in the
pants just the same. It is at present a matter of compromise, of bluff
as bluff can. If he is ambitious he will hope to get away with a
number of second-rate films, goaded on by the belief that one day
he will turn out a top-notcher.

The documentary director must remember that his theme (or
message) alone compels audience interest. There is nothing personal
in a documentary with which an audience can identify itself. Per-
haps there are mass or social instincts, but not individual emotions.
But in story-film the audience can assume a personal interest in
characters or incidents, often projecting itself into the position of a
participant. Because there is a story to divert attention from
realities, the task of making story-film is more simple than that of
documentary. In fact, the audience will accept deliberate mis-
statements of truth in story-film, but to lie in documentary demands
infinite skill, perfect craftsmanship and an accurate knowledge of
audience psychology.

Unlike the story-film director, the maker of documentary has
yet to gain the full co-operation of the trade. The renter and the
exhibitor do not understand documentary, and I am not sure that
they have tried. They search for established publicity angles and,
finding none, invent them. Yet their habits are retrogressive.
Moana was issued as "the Love of a South Sea Siren." Documentary
must always go forward. It needs new distributions and new
publicities. These will come.

Meanwhile, production becomes specialised, demanding men-
talities capable of approaching a multitude of treatments, from
the school-film to the dramatic industrial.

But, if it is not to go the way of story-film, documentary musl
be protected against exploitation for commercial profit alone. I
directors must retain freedom for their ideals.

ANOTHER REPERTORY CINEMA

The famous Everyman Theatre, Hampstead, has been re-opened
with a programme of repertory. J. S. Fairfax-Jones, one of our
London correspondents and a prominent member of the film
societies' movement, is a director of this new venture. Among the
first films to be shown are Le Million, Tabu, and Cimarron.

79

ALFRED HITCHCOCK

on

MUSIC IN FILMS

In an Interview with

STEPHEN WATTS

When the British student of intelligent cinema turns to survey the
creative side of film-making in his own country the names available
for reference are pathetically few. Even ranging over the whole of
the talkie's short history he can probably produce a bare half-dozen,
say (alphabetically for safety!) Asquith, Dupont, Grierson, Hitch-
cock, Korda, and Saville, and only the two last-named of these can
be regarded, at the moment, as contributors to the ordinary cinema.

But the arrival of Waltzes from Vienna and the news that he has
joined the Gaumont-British organization bring back to prominence
the name of Alfred Hitchcock.

His return to active direction is almost accidental. After his
term as production supervisor at British International — a regrettable,
fallow period for the keen intelligence which gave us Blackmail and
Murder — and his signing a contract for Korda, he was approached
by Tom Arnold, the theatrical manager, to supervise the filming of
Waltzes from Vienna. The step from that to actually directing it was
taken because the subject interested Hitchcock so much.

It sounds strange that the most unremittingly cinematic of our
directors, the realist and humanist, Hitchcock, should undertake
what seemed like simply the rendering into celluloid of a stage
musical success.

The clue is in that word "musical". He saw here a chance to do
two things : to try out some of his ideas about the relation of music
to the film, and try to prove that a film that is a film can be created
out of a ready-made theatre subject.

It was of these beliefs and theories about music and the film that
Hitchcock talked to me, illustrating his points with instances from
the film he was then busily engaged on cutting.

"The arrival of talkies, as you know, temporarily killed action
in pictures," he began, "but it did just as much damage to music.

80

Producers and directors were obsessed by words. They forgol that
one of the greatest emotional factors in the silent cinema was the
musical accompaniment. They have gradually realized that action
should still come first — that, talkies or not, they are still making
motion pictures. But music as an artistic asset of the film is still
sadly neglected.

" I was greatly interested in music and films in the silent days and
I have always believed that the coming of sound opened up a great
new opportunity. The accompanying music came at last entire ly
under the control of the people who made the picture. That was
surely an advance on having a separate score played by cinema
orchestras. The tremendous advantage of a film being musically
accompanied had been demonstrated by 'silents' like Ben Hur and
Way Down East. Yet when it became possible to blend film and
music together in an artistic entity the opportunity was overlooked,
or at least left undeveloped.

"The result is that the only dramatic use of music in talkies —
leaving out of account the 'musicals' which interpolate 'numbers'
rather than employ music — is the crude instance of slow music for
love scenes. Anything else has been an odd stunt and not a properly
worked out scheme.

''But that conventional soft music is the basis of the right idea-
expressing the mood of the scene. It is an elementarv application
of it."

"Do you believe, then, that every film should have a complete
musical score before it goes into production?" I asked.

* I do," Hitchcock replied emphatically. " Though by ' complete '
I do not mean continuous. That would be monotonous. Silence
is often very effective and its effect is heightened by the proper
handling of the music before and after.

''There is, somewhere, the correct musical accompaniment for
almost any scene — music which will improve the scene. But none
at all is better than the wrong music."

"But how would you relate music and action? What would you
say was the underlying purpose of all film-music? Can you give me
an example?" I asked.

"Well, the first and obvious use is atmospheric. To create
excitement. To heighten tensity. In a scene of action, for instance,
when the aim is to build up to a physical climax, music adds ex-
citement just as effectively as cutting — but I shall have more to sa\
about that comparison later. Music can also be a background to a
scene in any mood and a commentary on dialogue, but, frankly. I
have not yet made up my mind about the function of music in
relation to dialogue in general. I can only give specific instances
where I think it might be profitably used.""

81

"Surely the trouble there," I suggested, <;is that an audience
cannot listen to and appreciate both words and the musical back-
ground at the same time?"

"Partly that. But not entirely. I might argue that I do not
want the audience to listen consciously to the music at all. It
might be achieving its desired effect without the audience being
aware of how that effect was being achieved.

'No. The problem goes deeper than that. Music with certain
types of dialogue might be made to achieve a great deal, and here I
can give you an apt illustration from Waltzes from Vienna.

"There is a dialogue scene between a young man and a woman.
It is a quiet, tender scene. But the woman's husband is on his
way. The obvious way to get suspense is to cut every now and then
to glimpses of the husband travelling towards the house. In the
silent days, when the villain was coming, you always had the
orchestra playing quickening music. You felt the menace. Well,
you can still have that and keep the sense of the talk-scene going as
well. And the result is that you don't need to insist pictorially
on the husband's approach.

"I think I used about six feet of film out of the three hundred
feet used in the sequence to flash to the husband. The feeling of
approaching climax can be suggested by the music.

"It is in that psychological use of music, which, you will observe,
they knew something about before talkies, that the great possibilities
lie.

"It makes it possible to express the unspoken. For instance, two
people may be saying one thing and thinking something very dif-
ferent. Their looks match their words, not their thoughts. They
may be talking politely and quietly, but there may be a storm coming.
You cannot express the mood of that situation by word and photo-
graph. But I think you could get at the underlying idea with the
right background music. It may sound far-fetched to compare a
dramatic talkie with opera, but there is something in common.
In opera quite frequently the music echoes the words that have just
been spoken. That is one way music with dialogue can be used.

" Waltzes from Vienna gave me many opportunities for working
out ideas in the relation of film and music. Naturally every cut in
the film was worked out on script before shooting began. But more
than that, the musical cuts were worked out too.

" Let me give you an example. As you probably know, Waltzes
from Vienna tells the story of the conception, composition, and first
performance of "The Blue Danube. " Obviously there has to be a long
musical sequence when the piece is first played in public — one of
the big scenes of the picture. In what I have been saying about
music in films I have supposed the action to be the inspiration of

82

the music. But in this case the music had to inspire the action.
All the camera has to work with is the orchestra, the conductor,
and the audience. The human angle is the conductor — the younger
Strauss — and the people of the story who are listening. So I arranged
the cutting to match the rhythm of the music. It is difficult to
describe in words. You must visualize the film moving in time with
the music. In the slowr passages the cutting is slow, when the music
quickens the mood of the melody is followed by the quick cutting.

"Then, again, there is a good instance of the sort of thing I have
aimed at in the scene when Strauss, a young baker, conceives the
tune while at work. There the action — composed of simple things
like bakers kneading dough and rolls falling into baskets — moves in
time with the music which is forming in the young man's brain.

"Film music and cutting have a great deal in common. The
purpose of both is to create the tempo and mood of the scene. And,
just as the ideal cutting is the kind you don't notice as cutting,
so with music."

"You think then that cutting, montage, or whatever you like
to call it, cannot do all that is required to establish the mood of a
film, Mr. Hitchcock?"

"Exactly. I think cutting has definite limitations. Its best l
is in violent subjects. That is why the Russians made such effect r -
use of it, because they wrere dealing with violence, and they coula
pile shock on shock by means of cutting. But have you noticed thai
since they started to make quieter subjects, concerned with agri-
culture, etc., their montage has not been so noticeable or effective?
If I am sitting here with you discussing the Five- Year-Plan, no
amount of cutting can make a film of us dramatic because the
scene is not dramatic. You cannot achieve quiet, restrained effects
that way. But you might express the mood and tone of our con-
versation with music that would illuminate or even subtly comm<
on it.

"Please make it clear that I am not laying down laws on this
subject. I am simply experimenting in theory as I have done in
practice in Waltzes from Vienna. There are lots of things I lid
not made up my mind about. But I do think that any intelligent
attempt to harness music to films is a step forward. Word- and
incidental noises and ' song numbers' are surely not all the sound
track was invented for.

"The basis of the cinema's appeal is emotional. Music's appeal
is to a great extent emotional, too. To neglect music. I think, is
surrender, wilfully or not, a chance of progress in film-making.''

83

/

FILM AND RADIO

RUDOLF ARNHEIM

Author of " Film '*

The last century seems to have produced an inflation of new branches
of art. We are used to the idea that art is of the same venerable age
as mankind. The beginnings of the dance, music, poetry, theatre
and arts are veiled in the mist of a far-distant past. But glance at
the last century. In 1830, photography was created; in 1920, radio;
in 1930, sound-film. Are these all new arts?

If one examines the technique with which these new branches
of art take effect, one discovers that, in spite of all the diversity of
the technical apparatus and results, there is a surprising uniformity.
One feels tempted to speak of subdivisions in an entirely new branch
of art, which might be called reproductive art. This new art is not
fundamentally different from other branches of art. There is a
difference between the harmony of colours and the harmony of
music ; so is there a difference between the expressions of reproductive
art and those of all other branches of art.

What is characteristic in reproductive art? It is the reproduction
of reality. It is like the model taking the painter's brush, when the
rays of light make impressions of light and dark; when the sound
waves draw their lines on a waxen plate or on a strip of film. We
know that this is not merely a process of mechanical reproduction
comparable to a technical process such as printing, which has
nothing to do with the creative activity of an artistic human mind.

Reproductive art requires creative genius. The fact that reality
can copy itself is only a hint to us that we should search for the
characteristics of the new art; its strength lies in the fact that it does
cop}", especially from a selected point of observation and with a selected
choice of subjects. Camera and microphone permit us to retain the
perceptions of our most important senses through the eye and the
ear; and to transmit these perceptions through space and time.
Photography and silent film leave out the auditory element. Radio
and gramophone leave out the visual element. Sound-film combines
both factors. Visual perception is far more complete and true to
nature than auditory perception and, in consequence, the visual
branches of reproductive art (photography and film) are closer to
reality than the auditory branches, which command only part of
the senses and are therefore limited in their means, at least as far as
thev try to express the position of sound in space and time. This

84

limitation in extensity is, however, fully compensated by richness in
intensity. The spoken word may be exploited in man) unique ways
and, further, the art of conveying sound reaches its best expression
in abstract and symbolic characters. Visual reproduction is not
only more true to nature, it is more tied to it (Chaplin's art being
an exception). Radio plays, on the contrary, can be so full oi
philosophical visions that they could not be satisfactorily produced
on the stage (such as Goethe's " Faust," which, with all its symboli*
characters, is more a radio play than a stage drama . The
mechanical reproductions of visual and auditory perceptions thus
lead to diverse results in film and radio, even though they have in
common many important principles of form.

It was an exciting event when the discovery was made how to
copy naturally visual and auditory perceptions with newly invented
apparatus. That is the reason why we find in the early stages of
each subdivision of reproductive art only one aspiration: to copy
nature. They have, then, nothing to do with art. Gradually in the
hands of artists who feel the possibilities of the new medium, the
factors by which reproduction may become an art come into the
foreground.

At first we are satisfied with a normal position which helps us to
copy visual and auditory perceptions as accurately as possible The
camera is placed in the position which enables the object to be most
clearly reproduced. The singer is placed before the microphone so
that his voice will be neither too loud nor too soft — that the balance
will be natural. In the next stage an attempt is made to vary the
distance from the apparatus so as to create through the charac-
teristic space between the object and the apparatus a personal
relationship between the actor and the audience — the intimacy, for
instance, of the close-up, the remoteness and softness of distance.
The object is shown not only by itself, but also perspective!}' with
its world, and relatively with its surroundings, and its fellows. AH
the objects which appear at the same time and place are each
selected so that symbolic and universal relations will be created.
Objects may be placed in characteristic settings and lighting, jusl
as sounds and dialogue may be produced in radio and film studio-
by varying means, such as non-echoing rooms and muffled resound-
ing of highly reflective walls. There was, at first, nothing but a
quite ordinary sound-studio.

In the same way we find in the early stages of film and radio
the uninterrupted passage of time, keeping to the principle: Unity
of Time. The Zasur only indicates, as on the stage, the end of a
long-drawn-out scene. Then we realize that, at the film cutting-
bench and before the microphone, a change of scene is made moi
easily than on the stage. Certain scenes are cut to a minimum

85

Some are flashed for only a second (for instance, by Josef von
Sternberg), and gradually the structure of time and space in the
simple scene is interfered with by fitting in other scenes which
happen at different places at the same time. Shots of the same
place are taken from different angles by now. The unity of the
plot becomes a mosaic of details.

Up to the present artistic adjustments have not been satis-
factorily made in radio. It is not possible in radio to reproduce
from different angles, but only from varying distances. But the
primary reason is that radio has not yet made practical use of
recording radio plays on a sound-track which could be cut and
edited. As long as the actors continue to crowd round the
microphone during broadcasting for scene changes, radio will not
pass out of its first stages.

Film and photography have already reached a high standard,
and, after exaggerated attempts to use the new effects, there follows
a period of modification and simplification of the devices which
produce the deepest impression on the audience. Radio, the youngest
offspring of this new family of art, has not yet passed the initial
stage, and is still treated, as were film and photography in their
early stage of development, as a mere instrument of reproduction.
Its artistic possibilities are still denied by many people, and little
is being done to disprove their contentions. But the parallel of radio
and film strengthens the hope that broadcasting will progress in the
same way. So far as reproduction of reality is concerned, it will
never reach the standard of richness and originality of the visual
art. There is, however, every reason to hope that it will still
become culturally significant.

Translated by Margret Kappels.

ELSIE COHEN AND THE ACADEMY

The Academy Cinema, Oxford Street, which for the past three
years has pioneered the Continental film movement in London,
announces the resignation of Eric Hakim as managing director.
Miss Elsie Cohen, who originated the international scheme at the
Academy, which has become so widely known under her organi-
sation, will continue under her own direction to present the most
outstanding Continental films. Among those to be shown during
the present season are Anna and Elisabeth, with Herta Thiele and
Dorothea Wieck; Prenez Garde d la Peintnre, adapted from "The Late
Christopher Bean;" a new Lotte Reiniger silhouette film; and the
first presentation to the British public of the cartoon films of the
Hungarian artist, Szegedi Ziits, who is now working in London.

86

SYNTHETIC
AMERICA

ERIC M. KNIGHT

Film Critic of ''The
PJiiladclphia Public Ledger"

As I sit in one of our American movie palaces, with the de luxe
plush seats providing some minor balm, and watch the latest
enamelled epic of American life and times float past in superficial
perfection, I often wonder what the rest of the world is going to
think of that picture. I wonder: "Do the girls in West Ham think
we are like that? Do the lads in Lancashire imagine they are seeing
us? Will Bordeaux and Mantua and Bombay and Melbourne come
to the conclusion that America is as Hollywood shows it?"

It is almost with a shock that I realize that, of course, they must
accept us as we show ourselves by now ; the steady output of years
must have convinced the world that the United States is much as
it is shown on the films. Horrible thought! I rush to advise you
that it isn't true — any more than the old conceptions about French-
men with pointed moustaches and high hats, Russians with beard ^
and blouses, and Mexicans with knives and sneers.

May I point out that few lands know how to tell the truth about
themselves. To reverse the medallion, let me announce that British
films have failed, with monotonous regularity, to tell the rest of the
world the truth about Britain. We've had, true enough, talking
photographs of lots of your actors — who, I suppose, are the exact
equivalent of our Broadway lads. What picture of Britain do they
bring us? They, those actors, appear to us like a lot of top-hatted
silly asses of exactly the type that Americans delight to scorn.

Have you ever sent us a picture that would allow an American
to see a bit of Britain as you yourselves know it? Possibly Grierson's
Drifters did; we have not seen that here. There was an Anthony
Asquith short film which, for a brief moment, caught up some of
the colour of a mist-draped moor. Beyond that, nothing! An
American would need to visit Britain to find that it is not a country
of pseudo-modernistic sets that look remarkably like our own just-as-
shiny plasterwork from Hollywood.

Similarly, I should say that of all the great outpouring of Ameri-
can cinedramas not one in a hundred bears any grain of truth in
its warped outlook. You see only cardboard conventions distorted
with grease-paint outlooks; crooked cops, blatant gunmolls, senti-

87

mental detectives, face-slapping tough guys, saccharine-sentimented
vaudeville heroes, wise-cracking gold-diggers, impudent youth,
gorgeously gowned shopgirls. That, my friends, is not America.

Art is a parallel to truth, and there is much truth in the United
States, truth that needs telling. For it is not monotonous, this
live America you never see. It is alive, vivid and interesting.
Moreover, this being a large country, it is variegated in its colour.

We have here the rolling valleys of the East, with the country
people who ride and hunt much as in your own counties ; we have the
granite-strewn farms and hard accents of stern New England ; the
narrow monotony of the "Baptist belt5 of the near Middle West ;
the South, where dedacence and newly awakened life battle bitterly ;
the awesome flat lands and flat life of the wheat-belt ; the semi-
tropical vegetation and the hothouse ideas of California ; the grime
of Pennsylvania coal-fields, with bloody conflicts between miners
and bosses; the tragic bleakness of manufacturing cities; the pure
architecture of little old towns ; the Creole overlay of New Orleans —
I could go on for pages.

These, all widely variant, are the real America you do not see in
American films — much to the despair of the sane and normal citizens
of this land, who have deep and generous affection for their country.

There is not a phase of the "programme" film that manages to
clutch at truth beyond that wise-crackery of the Broadway hanger-on
which must, to you, seem typical American stuff. Even the music,
such as it is, has no American quality to it — and by American I
mean inherently belonging to this land. There is much jazz (which
doesn't get into screen musicomedy), which is negroid. But the
music you get in Hollywood films is almost purely Russian-Jewish.
Meet our Berlins and Jolsons and Cantors and then you see it all —
you know why — the minor wail, the crying blue, the " Mammy v
caterwauling that springs from Jewish matriarch- worship. American
songs really American? Not any more than a cantor's chanting is
British. If you want real American songs we have them by the
dozen. There is "Oh Suzannah," "Arkansas Traveller," 'Money
Musk," "Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie," "The Old Rock Candy
Mountain," "Clementine." Dozens of native tunes that are part of
the nation's life are unused.

In practically every part of the United States I have heard a
song which starts:

My son Joshua, went to Philadelphia.

It is as well known, I should say, as "The Star-Spangled Banner."
Yet it lies unrecorded. Or there is the plaintive charm of the real
cowboy songs, such as "The Last Roundup," with its curiously
intricate rhythm and its exhortation to:

88

Git along, little dogies, git along.

Dogics, I explain, lest a watchful proof-reader turn it to "doggies,
are young cattle.

The tunes, songs, accents, speech, habits, dress, life and customs
of the greatest part of America lie untouched, unreflected, by
Hollywood. Why? Possibly because the screen is not the stage;
the critical camera-eye won't allow the making-up of grease-paint
actors into these roles as the stage might. You must go out into the
lands and film the people themselves. And Hollywood is much too
occupied with production schedules ever to go farther away from
Hollywood than a suburban location. Catalina Island for sea-shots
is the farthest north in exploration for American films — and ii this
ignores completely the fisher-folk of Nova Scotia and Boston, or the
oystermen of Connecticut and Long Island, no one knows except a
few people who live in those latter places.

Of course, production of real pictures would take stamina and
fortitude, and lots of it. We haven't got brave producers. We haven't
a producer here who would dare to give the world a picture of the
negro as anything but a musical-comedy figure of trite jollity. Who
will film the tragedy of the American negro? No one — for not even
our Emperor Jones just filmed independently is aught but a stage-
drama with a celluloid coating.

The only film, as a type, that has any real authority is our much-
scorned Western. At least there, if you have banality of plot, you
have some of the stone and gravel and grassland of America thrown
in as incidentals. But, remember, this is only a small portion of the
United States, the cowboy West. Millions of Americans have never
seen it — it is as far away from the millhands of Brockton, Massa-
chusetts, and Connecticut as it is from the shipyard workers of the
Tyneside. And it is dying so fast that it will be one with the rock in
another decade.

Apart from Westerns, what films have been really American?
Some of the " historical, " such as The Covered Wagon and Cimarron,
have recreated the past. And what attraction there was in resusci-
tating a truth that was!

/ am a Fugitive was a real film — if a bad one for export. It was
an internal matter — an intramural attack on one of the flagrant
injustices that flourish in this land. (The ignorance and cruelty ol
decadent whites in Georgia had long been attacked by newspapers
of courage, such as the late "New York World.") The film was an
odd affair for Hollywood to tackle and it raised polite Hades. I'm
glad Britishers saw that; for even if it showed an ugly bit of American
life, it showed, too, that there lives here the courage and desire to
exterminate it. The Governor of Georgia was quite upset about it all.

89

What other film rang true? I suggest another: State Fair. Despite
all the fake backgrounds, dunning shots and duped scenes con-
cocted in Hollywood, this one almost caught the narrowness of
Middle W'estern life. The live-stock contests, the canning awards,
the tawdry amusement booths, the trotting-horse races, were getting
close to the soil. If the picture wanted to get even closer it should
have included those curious and distinctly American contests of
hawg-calling and rolling-pin throwing. The first of those is won by
the person whose dulcet yowls can call home a herd of hogs from
the greatest distance; the second, open only to women, is judged
more for accuracy than for mileage. Silly stuff? Outlandish, I admit.
But that's what the people do, and I can't see that it's any sillier
than rating the dexterity with which a man can beat rhythms with
the tips of his shoes — or sing about his mammy as he kneels on one
knee.

There is one more picture that is American and alive: the
recently issued She Done Him Wrong, by Mae West, for Mae West
and with Mae West. I wonder how I can explain her. I suppose the
easiest way is to say that East is East and West is something else again.

Mae West has swept across the country. Will Hays ruled that
she couldn't make a film called Diamo?id Lil, so she made a film in
which she was Diamond Lou and issued it as a rose by another
name. (Thus we obey Hays.)

But it isn't the story that means anything. It is Mae West her-
self: beautiful, vulgar, plump and earthy. She has poundage and
charm and a worldly-wise air. But it is her frank vulgarity that
attracts. The very walk of her, the lift of a shoulder, are eloquently
suggestive. And is this America? In part it is. At least, it is closer
to the truth. So America goes wild over the woman. She upsets the
silly cardboard convention that a woman is something with a Holly-
wood diet and a lamp-post silhouette. For once, instead of a manni-
kin, there is a real woman on the screen, as real as Marie Dressier and
half her age. It is astounding — someone alive on the screen!

Mae West is not all America. She is a part, but a real part. We
need the other parts revealed as eloquently — the millhand and
miner and automobile-worker and farmer and oil-driller and cotton-
cropper.

We are not a land of vaudeville actors, and it is only because
vaudeville actors play so much a part of Hollywood life that Holly-
wood thinks they are life itself. There is a great America here — an
America which, strange as it may seem to film watchers, is warm
and alive, full of people whose feet are planted deeply in this land
of ours. I'd like you to see them. But you won't. Not from feature
films. If you want to see America, take it from the news-reels.

9°

w

From "Zero de Conduite," a French film produced independently
by Jean Vigo. If is an exposure of a type of provincial boarding
school run for profit. The photography is by Boris Kaufman and
Louis Berger.

From Alfred Hitchcock's forthcoming musical
film "Waltzes from Vienna/' A Tom Arnold
production with Jessie Matthews, Fay Compton,
Frank Vosper, and Edmund Gwenn in the cast.

SCREEN MAGAZINES

D. F. TAYLOR

It is impossible to define Public Opinion or know "what the public
wants," though we do know to-day that there is a growing audience
who want to know, an audience who demand more in their re-
laxation than just entertainment. Financial crises and world
economic collapses beset us, and affect us individually. Far from
seeking an opiate, there is a large body of people who want to know
more about this crazy, chaotic world.

The people cry for knowledge, and the producers give us enter-
tainment. Traditionally they answer, "We know what the public
wants; we don't want none of these 'ere intellectuals" — the stock
answer that has met every innovation.

Through the screen magazine, the thin end of the wedge of
knowledge could be given to the waiting audiences. To-day it is
the lowest type of film produced. In form it owes much to ; Tit-
Bits ': and "Answers," a speedy collection of odds and ends from
here and there, designed to pass ten minutes and then to be forgotten.
Its constant seeking after the odd and the curious satisfies the un-
intelligent lust for curiosity, but achieves nothing.

The present chief operators in the field are Pathe Gazette and
Eve's Film Review, the Ideal Cinemagazine , and the Paramount Pictorial,
with the rechauffe of five-year-old newsreel, the Kinograph Tonereel.
Searching crazily for the strange and the curious, they overlook the
solid jobs of review waiting on their own doorsteps. Their formula
never changes. Week in and week out we are treated to a dash of
industry, a dash of beauteous country-side, two dashes of fashion
and a lacing of cabaret to give the reel a kick. I was once told
that the North demands the cabaret. This particular statement that
certain areas demand a low form of entertainment should have
been debunked by now. It is not what the public want in those
areas; it is what the exhibitor wants — an entirelv different affair.
It is an insult to the North to suggest that they demand legs and
lingerie above all else. The theory that the exhibitor knows what the
public wants should have been exploded before. From conversations
up and down the country with exhibitors I have never yet found
one who could give a true estimate of the public taste in his district.
He is usually far more concerned with the mess the audience makes
on his carpets than the type of film he shows. He is more concerned
with the pea-nut audience on Thursday and the orange-peel audience
on Saturday to think about their reactions.

93

Pathe\ once an old and respected name in the film business, is
still content to trade on that respect. It certainly cannot hope to sell
its product on any other grounds. If you ever have the misfortune
to sit through one with a Paramount Screen Souvenirs in the same
programme, you will see that the technique of 1910 lives on. Half
their material comes from America — cheap oddments and throw-
outs of the newsreels, and apparently a fourth-hand "dupe."
Pathe's home shooting never conceives anything beyond a long shot
and a close-up; in fact it is doubtful whether the word "cutting'1
has filtered through to that gloomy stone house in Wardour Street.
If you wish to put your soul through fifteen minutes of purgatory,
see the latest issue — a music-hall turn, shot against stage props,
with only two close-ups to vary the monotony of a long shot, the
turn doing gags which are green with age on the halls. American
children go into the air to learn geography; a good subject if properly
treated, but here mauled about for the commentator to make
facetious "cracks." Herman Darewski teaching us a new game for
Christmas parties. There were some other items, but their nonentity
escaped my notice. That is Wardour Street's idea of food for your
mental pabulum.

It is difficult to decide whether Paramount take their magazine,
Paramount Pictorial, seriously. I am inclined to the belief that it is just
one of those things which happen in a big company. Sporadically
someone tries to do something with it, and occasionally there is a
good subject. But inevitably we get the formula: fashions, travel,
cabaret, oddities — the rot runs deep when Paramount have so little
originality.

Out of the muck and rut of "dupe" and unintelligence the work
of Andrew Buchanan shines like a beacon light. Within his formu-
lated limits he persistently turns out first-rate technical jobs. Every
week the Ideal Cinemagazine is fresh and contains something stimu-
lating. Buchanan cannot be judged on content value, though he has
done everything possible within the limits of the magazine. He has
one of the few cutting senses in England. The only charge that can
be brought against him is a leaning to sophistication ; his reel smacks
too much of the purlieus of -Bond Street. He pursues the odd and
the curious with an energy that could be better applied. Occa-
sionally he slips in an item which is of real value. Some of his docu-
mentary items approximate to the ultimate form of the magazine.
He tried to make a revolution once when he took over the Gaumont
Mirror, which in the old days ran Pathe Gazette pretty close. He tried
to create a serious magazine containing documentary, talks, science,
art, without the cement of a punning commentary. Unfortunately
this one ray of hope in the field was scotched after a few weeks,
just as it was beginning to formulate itself and stand on its feet.

94

Buchanan's facetious commentaries have become a byword, pan-
dering to the old idea that your material, because it is not story,
can have no interest unless it is made into entertainment by the
addition of comic titles or commentary.

And that is the fundamental root trouble that applies to all
shorts — documentary, newsreels, magazines, travelogues, sport-
lights. They must be entertainment, and by entertainment our movie
magnates would have you understand emotional appeal. They deny
anyone the right to think, they deny us the right to intellectual
entertainment.

Yet, through the magazine, we have an aid to the creation of
a socially conscious cinema. It has a journalistic format, and as
such it is of value. We want to elevate it from the ranks of 'Tit-
Bits "; we want to make it a weekly review of the world — something
that is not cheap like "Tit-Bits," nor highbrow like the "Week-
End Review." It should become a review with a definite status,
a newspaper make-up, a political policy. And if so, how can it
become socially useful?

It should maintain a close liaison with the newsreels. It could
reconstruct from the newsreel, with added material, the motivation
of political events; it would cover current social problems — slums,
unemployment, world exchanges, unbalanced production. Industry
would not be important for the curious things that are made in its
factories, but for its developments. The wheels of industry begin to
turn again — giant new machines to relieve manual labour; how the
machine is replacing the hand in modern industry is of far more
importance than the making of a violin, or the building of a piano.
New inventions and the developments of science are far more
interesting than the peculiar behaviour of certain substances under
experiment. There is an interesting possibility in visual reviews of
films and plays. New theories of education can be more vividly
interesting than child prodigies. Fashions only become of im-
portance in their social aspects: show the housewife how to make a
dress for five bob — don't let's hob-nob with Mayfair. New social
services, postal developments, new aspects of safety first, analytical
reviews of sport — these are all possible subjects. Why not special
regional items, new methods of agriculture and the discoveries of
research for the farming areas, indications of useful leisure employ-
ments for the industrial areas ?

According to formula and rig d preconceived ideas the above
suggestions are not entertainment, but ask yourself what you under-
stand by the word " entertainment." It has unfortunate associations :
we need a recasting of meaning.

95

COMMERCIAL
DOCUMENTARY

H. BRUCE WOOLFE

Formerly of British Instructional Films
and now Chief of G.-B. Instructional

What is a documentary film? Some people declare it is any film that
is non-fictional. With this definition I disagree. In the first place, I
know many films that are non-fictional which, in my opinion, are
not documentary. Secondly, I maintain that if a film contains
fictional elements it does not necessarily become declassed as
documentary. On the contrary, I believe that the addition of
judicious fiction may considerably increase both the aesthetic value
and the point of a film that in the main deals with a non-fictional
subject. Further, I maintain that, to get the greatest appreciation
from the greatest number of people, judicious fiction is necessary.
If I were permitted to apply the word documentary to plays, I
should describe several of Shakespeare's histories as documentary;
and Shakespeare, being no mean craftsman, never hesitated to
employ fiction when dealing with a documentary subject.

The documentary film at its best should depict phases of life and
jobs of work as they are done by some portion of our people. By
passing this knowledge on to other sections of the community it is
definitely doing good work and making a contribution to our national
life. By getting knowledge of how other sections of our countrymen
work and live we are getting a better understanding of their outlook.
No other medium can do this in anything like the same way as the
film. I believe that documentary films should be strictly national
and that only by being so will they be welcomed by other nations.
I do not believe in internationalism in films, having seen the results
that have attended the production of bi-lingual, multi-lingual and
foreign co-operation productions in the past. Internationalism in
Europe during the last ten years has had no better result than has
attended internationalism in films. Likewise I believe that docu-
mentary films should show the efforts made by all classes in the
advancement of our country and not be confined to one class only.

With these ideas firmly implanted in my mind as the result of
experience and observation, I have recently put into production a
film that will deal with interdependence within the Empire. It
shows how co-operation is essential between the Mother Country
and the Dominions, and how, in furthering that co-operation, Brains

96

From 'Windmill in Barbados/7
Production : John Grierson
Direction and Photography :
Basil Wright

Leslie Howard and Heather Angel in
" Berkeley Square/7 an adaption of the
successful play. Fox Film production.

evolved a mighty scheme, Capital financed it, and Labour carried
it out. None of the three could have done anything alone. In ordn
to secure proper continuity and personal interest it is necessary to
incorporate elements of fiction here and there, keeping to the spirit
and adding to the point. The film will be directed by Paul Rotha.
I have had arguments with him over this fiction business and have
given way on certain points, but he has admitted the principle and
we are in agreement as to the method of treatment of the theme.

To make documentary films successful, one must believe in one's
subject absolutely. Sincerity cannot be grafted on to a film; it must
exist before a foot is shot. If that sincerity holds out until the end of
a production, it shows on the screen. I cannot explain how or why;
it is one of those intangible things that make the screen so powerful
and so fascinating. It is useless to proclaim this in Wardour Street,
because it is heresy to believe that a million dollars doesn't always
show on the screen. I believe that sincerity on the screen is worth
more than a million dollars and is much more likely to declare its
presence.

I have been making documentary films for several years. One
of my earliest efforts was made twelve years ago and was the record
of the campaign in Palestine entitled Armageddon. It was passed as
true by General Allenby and the Army Council. On its completion
I showed it to every film renter in Wardour Street; they would
have none of it ! Because it contained no love interest it was suspect.
The small capital of the company I was then responsible for was all
sunk in this picture, and the position was serious. Something had
to be done ; no renter would take it ; so a renting company had to be
formed to exploit it. This was done and Armageddon was launched.
It was eventually booked to eight times its cost. It was followed by
other films of a similar type, all financially successful. But still the
mentality of Wardour Street did not change.

A short while ago I made another documentary film and was
informed that it would have been scrapped had it not been for the
fact that the trade show had been booked. It was shown to the
Trade and eventually booked to over a thousand theatres in this
country, besides being sold to the Dominions. Still no change on
the Wardour Street front.

Recently I was responsible for another documentary film which
on being viewed was returned to me with the remarks, "Bored us
stiff; no personal appeal; cut it down to eight hundred feet and it
might go as a fill-up. ': I insisted on contractual obligations and the
film was distributed, not with great enthusiasm or a deal of publicity,
as can be imagined. It secured three runs, totalling eleven weeks,
in the West End of London and has done well in the provinces. So
much for Wardour Street !

99

Advertising agents tell us that if you have a good article and shout
about it long enough and loud enough, you are certain of a response.
I believe this is true. Although I have not shouted very loud, I have
been declaring my beliefs for quite a long time and have at last evoked
a response.

The Gaumont-British group have financed a company, G-B.
Instructional, to devote itself to the production of documentary
films, for a period of five years. Farsightedness and courage and
belief in the future of the documentary film are necessary to put in
hand a proposition of this description. By their action in this matter
Gaumont-British have shown they have the courage to back that
belief with finance, which is the crucial test. The new company
will start under favourable conditions with a fixed determination to
do its utmost to justify the belief reposed in it.

CINEMA LIBRARY

FILMCRAFT. By Adrian Brunei. (London: Newnes, 3s. 6d.)
This book is not concerned with the technicalities of camera work
and film processing, but with the actual production of films, from
the scenario department to the editing bench. It goes through
every phase of film production, even giving what so many writers
of film handbooks have neglected, a detailed analysis of a given
scenario, showing the why and wherefore of the inclusion and
rejection of certain shots.

The inclusion of twelve appendices by experts is a happy idea,
and special mention must be made of those by Ivor Montagu on
'Creation," John Orton on 'Direction," and Reginald Beck on
'Sub-Standard Editing," in the last of which the writer emphasises
the point that reversal stock can never be as satisfactory in the
cutting-room as the negative-positive film. There is a glossary of
film terms and several illustrations. L.

BROTHERS OF THE SNOW. By Luis Trenker. (London:
Routledge, 7s. 6d.) If Trenker could write a book as well as he can
make a film his autobiography would be twice as interesting. As it
is, we never become interested in his early life, and his chapters on
film-making are only superficially interesting. Hollywood's hot-
houses, we are glad to know, however, have no attraction for Trenker
the Alpinist, who longed for his snows throughout his visit to Cali-
fornia. The book is worth reading to learn that Alpine snow is an
antidote to Hollywood dope.

Notices of two novels from which films have been adapted —
The Child Manuela (Maedchen in Uniform) and The Stranger's
Return — are held over until the next number.

100

THE FILM ABROAD

A SOVIET WRITER
TAKES TO CINEMA

ALEXANDER WERTH

One of the latest Russian recruits to Western cinematography is
Eugene Zamiatin, the brilliant novelist and playwright, whose mind
is perhaps a little too ironical for the land of Five- Year enthusiasms.
During the War he was in England building icebreakers for the
Russian navy, and then, when the Revolution broke out, he returned
to Russia to become one of the leading literary lights of the new
regime. His output is small in quantity, but high in quality, and his
super-concise prose, which is not so much narrative as a series of
visual flashes, had many followers and imitators, both in the literary
and in the cinematic field. But Zamiatin never quite adapted him-
self to Soviet conditions. There was a preciosity in his style which
was a trifle "aesthetic"; his qua'nt theatrical fantasias of mujik
humour were too indolent for the shock-brigade mind; some of
his stories had too much of the human, and not enough of the col-
lective interest; and when he wrote a fantasia with the tactk
tiile "We" — a vision of the world's sublimely mechanical future —
the Soviet critics thought that he had better be funny about some-
thing else, and the book was published in America.

Zamiatin is a good and loyal Soviet citizen, but with a touch of
rebellious individualism; and about eighteen months ago he
turned up in Paris to renew his long-standing acquaintance with the
"rotten West." He seemed to like it, and has not gone back to
Russia yet. But unlike Ehrenburg, who is in his element at Mont-
parnasse, he has given up writing books until he goes back to Russia,
and spends his time producing plays and writing articles and

narios. His comedy, " The Flea," which is still going strong at the
Moscow Art Theatre (where it was first produced in 1926), and
which is an ingenious attempt to reconstruct Russian popular
comedy, with a touch of commedia delV arte, will be produced in Paris
after an initial run at Brussels. It may go to London afterwards.
As for articles, he writes for Barbusse's " Monde," " Europe," and
other papers of more or less Bolshevik or drawing-room Bolshevik
tendencies. He gave me lunch at his little furnished flat at Auteuil
the other day. Holy Russia! Borsh, kasha, minced ''cutlets, " black

101

bread, kissel and vodka — White-Russian, Paris-made vodka. And
after lunch we had cardboard-tube cigarettes stuffed with caporal.
Zamiatin is forty-five, perhaps forty-eight, clean-shaven and almost
English-looking, but for the sly mujik twinkle in his eyes.

"So you have taken to scenario-writing?"

'No, I am just going on with it. I had already worked on three
films in Russia, where I took to scenario-writing in self-defence, as it
were. It happened like this. There is a story of mine called ' Northern
Love,' a bit Knut Hamsun'ish, full of Laplanders and reindeer.
Ivanovsky, who afterwards did Decembrists, produced it. He shot
most of the scenes at Alexandrovsk, on the Murman coast, and
there is some glorious Arctic scenery in the film. It was a great
success in the hey-day of the silent film. When I say that I had to
act in self-defence, it was simply because they gave my story to
one of their sworn-in scenario hacks ; so I had to take it awav from
him.

"With my next film the very opposite happened. You know my
storv, ' The Cave ' — it has been translated three or four times into
English ; it is the story of the ex-bourgeois couple living in their little
room — their cave — in starved and frozen civil-wartime Leningrad,
and worshipping the gluttonous god of the cave — the stove. A
symbol of life, as it were. I started writing the scenario; but when
I saw what they were doing with it I gave it up. My story was the
tragedy about two ordinary human beings; they turned it into a
propaganda film about the ' rotting ex-upper classes ' — though
Ermler, I admit, is a pretty able producer.

"At present they are working on my third scenario; this one is
a talkie. Iola is its name — the story of a fishing-boat and of the man
who loved it. It shows the hard life of the fishermen on the Arctic
Ocean, and the hero gets drowned in an attempt to save the boat
for which he had worked all his life. In this film, too, there is some
good Arctic scenery. The last I heard was that the Moscow factory
were still working on the film. It is a slow business."

"What about your film work here?"

"That's a different matter. When I first arrived I tried to work
for Gaumont, but found them — what shall I say? — too inartistic.
Then I wrote a scenario for Chaliapine on the subject of 'Stenka
Razin,' a romantic, revolutionary affair, based on the folklore about
the great robber chief of the Volga, and at the same time the hero
of the first great peasant uprising. I sold it to Vandor Film, but
after Don Quixote they are not in a hurry to do any more Chaliapine
for the present. I am also writing a film version of my play Attilla;
a spectacular theme, and a mighty significant one at a time when
the Western world is about to be swept away bv the Slav and
Germanic hordes.

102

CkBut my biggest cinema job since leaving Russia has been my
scenario of Anna Karenina; Pathe-Xathan have bought it, and Ozep,
the producer of the Brothers Karamazov, will start on it in the spring,
as soon as he is finished with Zweig's Amok. They are talking of Lil
Dagover or Yvonne Printemps for the title-role. I admit that the
holy shade of Tolstoy was an awful bother. You see, in turning tin-
novel into a film I simply had to cut out all the non-visual matter,
and, naturally, Levin, the Tolstoyan hero with his grasshoppn
philosophizing, had to be thrown overboard at once. I limited
myself to the Karenin-Yronsky triangle. The dialogue had to be
cut out, for both the dialogue and the psychology had to be trans-
lated into cinematic terms. The thing had to be visual and dynamic.
The method of flash-presentation instead of narrative exposition was
the method that you will find in all my books; so the medium was
familiar enough to me. The dialogue is, naturally, also reduced t< >
bare essentials, to mere significant flashes. There is one thing, how -
ever, which will infuriate the literary fetishists. There is plenty of
movement — continuous movement — in the film; the visual material
is good : and a good job will be made of the race-course, in particular.
But you will remember that shortly after Anna's first meeting with
Vronsky there is a lapse of one year, at the end of which he becomes
her lover. That one year's courtship is not described in Tolstoy.
Cinematically, you cannot convey the lapse of a whole year; and
to convey this passage of time I inserted a number of flashlight
episodes, showing the progress of Yronsky's courtship. I know they
will cry sacrilege. But what can you do? On the screen things have
to be shown, not told. In a way, all my literary work has been cine-
matic; I never explained; I always showed and suggested.

"And, after all," Zamiatin concluded, with a twinkle of self-
satisfaction, "you know where Soviet cinema learned its method
and its basic idea. Was it not from the flashily obscure Soviet bo«
of the early twenties? Quorum pars magna fui."

Paris, December 1933.

"ZERO DE CONDUITE"

Jean Vigo's film, £ero de Conduite, which has been attacked by the
French censors, is an exposure of life in a provincial boarding school.
The heroes are delicate children badly handled by greedy tyrants.
Finally the boys rebel, and the mutiny gives the film much of its
excitement and action. The film is a courageous and outspoke
independent production in which Yigo had as his collaborators the
Belgian cineaste Henri Storck, the composer Maurice Jaubert, and
the photographers Boris Kaufman and Louis Berger. L. P.

103

THE FILM IN SOUTH AFRICA

H. R. VAN DER POEL

South Africa has probably had a fair share of the outstanding
films of the world. Perhaps it was in the days of the Swedish Biograph
and Nordisk films that the public first began to take notice. One
remembers seeing Emil Jannings in Anne Boleyn. There are recol-
lections of a number of the audience leaving before the end when
The Golem was shown at the then foremost cinema in Cape Town;
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari being shown in the City Hall (the trade
evidently did not want it) ; Stiller 's Hotel Imperial, Lubitsch's For-
bidden Paradise, Dupont's Vaudeville proving box-office successes.
So were to a certain extent JVanook and Grass. On the other hand,
Chaplin's Woman of Paris, Pabst's Crisis, Jeanne Ney, Flaherty's
Moana, Grierson's Drifters, ran almost unnoticed in suburban houses
or the cinema tea-rooms. Few recognised The Street of Sorrows as
being what was left of Pabst's Freudlose Gasse with Garbo. The only
Russian films worth mentioning were Mother and Earth. The silent
era ended with the last of the Ufa specials, Homecoming, Hungarian
Rhapsody, The Wonderful Lie, and Pitz Palu.

Whereas in the silent days one saw what was probably the pick
of the world's films, the trade has made no attempt to introduce the
outstanding Continental sound films. In view of the fact that
German is almost invariably the foreign language taught at South
African schools and universities, this is surprising.

Le Million, probably brought out as an experiment, was fairly
successful. A significant feature of the sound era is the rapid head-
way made by British films as compared with the American product.
The films from the Gainsborough studios in particular have proved
popular successes. Sunshine Susie was no doubt as big a family
success as elsewhere. Among the shorts Ideal Cinemagazine is
easily the favourite. With Cobham to Kivu was received with much
enthusiasm. We have, however, not seen any of Anthony Asquith's
work since A Cottage on Dartmoor.

There is not a single theatre in the Union showing consistently
films which have not been made with an eye on the box-office.
The Cape Film Society, news of which already has appeared in
Cinema Quarterly, has revived some of the outstanding films of the
silent era. Their chief difficulty is the supply of suitable films. The
outstanding film of the current season has been Maedchen in Uniform.
Fragments of Iven's J^uiderzeewerkem, Phillips-Radio, Oscar Fischinger's
Filmstudie No. y, and Clair's The Italian Straw Hat have also been
shown.

104

With a vast native population, the South African censors are
faced with unusual difficulties. Potemkin was prohibited by the
Customs. The Blue Angel was banned, while Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
was passed for exhibition to European adult audiences. Strange
things happen, although it is difficult to know whether the censors
or the professional cutters are to blame. An instance is provided
by Pitz Palu. On seeing the film for the second time, a few days after
the premiere, one was astounded to find that a most important
sequence had been eliminated.

Local production is at present confined to news, public ity or
navel shorts. Earlier productions included some of Rider Haggard's
novels. Probably the only significant South African production was
Die Voortrekkers, produced by Harold Shaw in collaboration with tl
historian, Gustaf Preller, for African Film Productions. Based
on historical events in the early pioneer days, Die Voortrekkers w;
in some respects, a forerunner of The Covered Wagon. It differed in
this respect, however, that only a few of those who took part we
professionals. The cast included hundreds of natives from t
kraals and mine compounds. Die Voortrekkers is unique in ith
African film production, and is still being shown throughout the
country on the occasion of certain national celebrations.

Sub-standard production of documentary or experimental fill
is, as far as is known, non-existent. There are no societies for purely
documentary or experimental work. Apparatus is expensh
although the dealers seem to be doing well. One surmises that
good deal of 16 m.m. stock is consumed every year for m<
family movies, with perhaps many attempts at aping Hollywood.
The only important production on record is Professor Comptoi 3
document, National Parks in America. There is a rich field for docu-
mentary work still unexplored. The farmers' co-operatives, labour
settlements, the mines, even the conditions created by the extreme
drought, from which a large area of the agricultural distric
suffering at present, provide almost unlimited scope for documentary
work.

While it may not be unusual to find Trenker's Doomed Battalion
with only a half-filled house and, at the same time, crowds flocking
round the corner to see Constance Bennett in Bought, and although
the film critics may think Marion Gcring {Twenty-four Hours oi
of the outstanding women directors, the cinema is progressing in
South Africa.

The fact that the founders of the Cape Film Society include
prominent artists and educationalists while the majority of tl
members are people who have probably never been movie star
worshippers, is not without significance.

105

MISCELLANY

PUDOVKIN ON SOUND

JOHN GRIERSON

Pudovkin sums it up by saying that we Occidentals have failed to
use sound dramatically. We have not yet learned to make sound an
essential factor in our film construction. Our dialogue is derivative
of the stage, our songs of the music hall, our recitals of the lecture
room, our natural sound of melodrama; and sound film seldom
conveys any fuller sense of the object than mute film did before it.
A worse sense if anything, for dialogue has depraved the sense of
action. Pudovkin generalises perhaps too readily; forgetting, or not
knowing, the split choruses of Lubitsch and Clair, the unemploy-
ment sequence of Three-cornered Moon, the gossip sequence of The
Night of June 13th, and the other occasional ingenuities of our
technique. But on the whole he is right. We do not use sound to
develop the art we discovered with silent cinema. We use it so
much for its derivative values — in dialogue, in interlude — that it
slows our pace, makes image and sequence of image incidental to
literary meaning, and diminishes the peculiar power of the screen.
Much of Pudovkin' s theory, as set out in the new chapters of

'Film Technique' (London: Newnes, 3s. 6d.), is no more than
common sense; and we hardly need a special discourse on asyn-
chronism (not even the longer word explains it) to tell us that the
sound should complement the mute and not merely repeat it. The
first function of sound, says Pudovkin (or his translators), is to

'augment the potential expressiveness of the film's content." It
widens the scope of the film; it allows more things to be said; and
more variously; and more shortly. The sound strip and the silent
must each follow its own rhythmic course. The synchronous use of
sound is only "exceptionally correspondent to natural perception."

In so far as Pudovkin is exclusively interested in story values (he
always is in his theory, if not in his films) his examples of asyn-
chronism are curiously shallow. He thinks of a town-bred man in
a desert accompanied by city noises ; of a cry for help which silences

106

IF

> »

V*

...»■'

w

4

Two shots from Pudovkin's new sound-film, "Deserter/'

Two stills from "Granton Trawler," a short
film made by John Grierson.

the natural sound of traffic and cakes its place; of a total cessation of
sound in a period of tension; and, in general, he makes a great ado
of the difference between objective fact and its subjective inter-
pretation by his characters. This, of course, is a sufficient gambit
for an elementary dissertation on sound, and it is proper in Bol-
sheviks to regard us as imbeciles. But the interplay of subjective-
objective is not a sufficient theoretical platform for sound film if we
for a moment imagine the orchestrational possibilities of a comple-
mentary Bach or Beethoven. There is only passing excitement in
the notion of a sound film "made correspondent to the objective
world and man's perception of it together, where the image retains
the image of the world, while the sound strip follows the changing
rhythm of the course of man's perceptions; or vice versa' . . . only
passing excitement when the two might so easily go off the earth
together.

Such subjective-objective distinction may be real from the
characters' point of view, but it is unreal from the artist's point of
view. For him all elements of sound or mute are materials which
together — together orchestrated — create his transfigured reality.
They do not interpret as across a barrier, but are images together —
give a meaning together — in a common recreated world. Mute and
sound may swell together in a single symphony; silent images may
join with sound images in a single poetry; a Greek chorus in sound,
whether in formalised vers litres or in documentary bits and pieces,
may join with narrative mute in a single recital. It is only misleading
to make one a special interpretation of the other; sound film is
thereby reduced to the wheezy psychological mechanics of people
like Ibsen.

One should not puncture a man's theory by his own
creative example, but Deserter is a better account of Pudovkin on
sound than these chapters under review. The trouble with Pudovkin
is that he performs like a poet and theorises like an elementary
school teacher. As a theoretician, indeed, he very successfully
makes inexplicable the very mature beauties he, as a creator, re-
presents. How on a subjective-objective theory can he explain (a)
the chorus of steamer whistles which attends his procession of ships
(they are both orchestrations of perception) ; (b) his waltz-time
accompaniment of waltz-timed traffic cops (they are both fanci-
fications of perceived reality); (c) the triumphant march which
accompanies his defeated street demonstration (they are both
mounted in processional); (d) his cutting of rivetting machines into
workers' applause (they are both rhetorical) ? These are the high
lights of sound accompaniment as he uses it, and it would be false
analysis to say that the accompaniment in any one of these cases
is an interpretation of the mood or meaning of the mute (or vice

109

versa) . The effect they give is given together, the interpretation is a
single interpretation. They are not two separate rhythms — or they
ought not to be — but one single rhythm in which sound and mute
are just so much imagistic raw material. The black and the white
notes (the " Oban Times" said it more wisely than Pudovkin) must
be played upon with an equal facility.

THEATRE AND CINEMA

In addition to the reissued 'Film Technique" there has been
published a short article by Pudovkin on "Acting — the Cinema v.
the Theatre,' in the October issue of "The Criterion" (London:
Faber and Faber, 7s. 6d.). In it Pudovkin restates his theory that
* the man before the cine-camera must behave differently than the
man behind the footlights," and emphasises that the value of real
material to the cinema has not disappeared with the arrival of the
sound film. His theories will be more fully considered in an article
in a forthcoming number, in which C. R. Jones will discuss the
difference between theatre and cinema.

AIRMAN'S WORLD

For centuries our outlook has been conditioned by an earthly
existence and our sense of space governed by contact with the
surface of the earth. The advent of the aeroplane and airship has
destroyed all this. Mr. Supf* seeks to express in words and photo-
graphs some idea of this new world above us, and to a limited extent
he has been successful. The text is composed largely of extracts
from the diaries and log-books of famous pilots — including Byrd,
Lindbergh, Cobham, Pluschow, Mittelholzer, Udet — who write
with first-hand knowledge. Their remarkable descriptions read
more convincingly than the author's sentimental reminiscences,
perhaps because they are roughly jotted down and vividly impres-
sionistic. It is true that when travelling through the air a com-
pletely new attitude is obtainable, a sense of freedom and vastness
which is impossible to the dweller on and. The majesty of clouds,
the drama of storm, the hugeness of the sea cannot be appreciated
unless an aerial view is forthcoming; and once that new emotion
has been experienced it is difficult to return to an old outlook. J The
illustrations are an interesting collection, but it is regrettable that
they are not better reproduced both in quality and size.

P. R.

* In "Airman's World" (London: Routledge, 10s. 6d.)

IIO

*WE TURN TO HISTORY

From the clangorous and peptonized horror of American civilization
the camera is turning to the gracious beauty of a romantic past.
Gangsters give place to barons, showgirls to royal mistresses. The
chattering of the machine-gun will no longer spit across the sound-
track; the screen will be filled with the patterns of epee and sword.
Thus we may escape into a past seen through the rose-dim spectacles
of nostalgia for a saner world.

But that gives no renewed invigoration for the struggle against
values which would reduce our world to a shallow farce, a struggle
to make strength and intellect and beauty the common heritage of
mankind. The past is a tissue as complex and as splendid as the
present; but the interpretations of the past are not the meanings we
can put to the same things to-day. We solve our ancestors' prob-
lems; for those of to-day we have no precedent. Of what im-
portance to us is finesse in love-making — the deceptions of an
immoral game of sex played among the dust-smeared gilt of baroque
obscenities — or a code which loosed slaughter and rape over Badajoz
and Drogheda, or a sincerity which lit the fires of persecution
throughout Europe?

Gin and kisses become romantic in periwigged heroes. Make gin
and loveless kisses harmless by every means. The audience cannot
project the unclean powder and curls of the eighteenth century or
the splashed and dirty velvets of Henry VIII into its daily life. But
a vicarious enjoyment of "selfishness, cruelty, ingratitude and
sensuality, and the grossness of the King's manners," to quote a
review, will not teach an audience self-respect. Historical films will
not contribute the slightest inspiration to the people of to-day.
Romance is not a value of life. It is an attitude of escape from
reality. Reality for us is our civilization, with its amazing material
progress, its striving for a clearer vision and a new scale of values
to replace those destroyed by the war. We escaped into that stabler
world in Cavalcade] a mild regret — what else was left? Let us have
films which keep our world before us ; the faith of the propagandist
and the honesty of documentary side by side with American satire.
Only when we cannot grasp the complexity of our civilization, the
achievements of which we are so proud, as well as the flaws which
deface them, will we turn to romance for escape. History is the
stuff of our past; but the romantic history of the film is the dressing up
of a child who suffers from inferiority, an unworthy escape from
ourselves and our civilization. Thomas Simms.

* A reply to Philip Lindsay. See "The Camera Turns on Histon," Cinema Quarterly,
Autumn, 1933.

I I I

FILMS OF
THE QUARTER

FORSYTH HARDY

More obviously than usual, the films of the quarter emphasise the
cinema's dependence on literature and the theatre for its material.
So large a proportion of films are adapted either from plays or novels
that we have unconsciously come to look on this wholesale deriva-
tion as an accepted practice, and are in danger of losing sight of the
fact that it represents cinema's least creditable aspect as an in-
dependent entertainment and a distinctive art. Because cinema can
never have any real prestige among the arts while its productions
are mere adapted versions of themes already expressed elsewhere.
The greatest plays are not dramatised versions of books; and the
greatest films are not photographs of stage plays.

It would not be intelligent, however, to ignore the reasons for
this consistent derivation. As always, the chief are commercial.
A popular play, novel, or silent film has already an assured public,
advance publicity, and general goodwill — all valuable box-office
assets. So many films are needed so quickly that the producers are
timorous of new ideas, and prefer ready-made material created for
other forms of expression and tried and tested elsewhere. Also, the
number of authors and artists who understand and use the film as a
medium for expressing their ideas is still small, though it is probably
larger than the film companies allow us to realise, and the supply
of original material for the screen cannot be great. But these reasons
are not sufficient to justify the continued and increased dependence
of the cinema on literature and the theatre, not sufficient to excuse
the film producer's lack of courage to tackle or sponsor the task of
creation.

It is not impossible, of course, for a good play to be used as the
basis of a good film. Maedchen in Uniform was a good film, not because
it was a photograph of a good play, but because Leontine Sagan
expressed the theme in a form which was essentially of the cinema.
Similarly with Milestone's The Front Page. And this quarter has
produced Three-cornered Moon, adapted from a play by Gertrude
Tonkonogy. This, though it retains the theatrical qualities of
amusing situation and clever dialogue, is close to the cinema in its
intimate observation of everyday life, and Elliot Nugent has given
it a unity of mood and movement only possible on the screen. Not

112

From " S.O.S. Iceberg/' a Universal Production.
The photography is by Hans Schneeberger and R. Angst.

From "La Maternelle," a French film of child life.
Directed by Benoit-Levy and Marie Epstein.
A Photosonor production.

since The Royal Family of Broadway has there been a coined}' so
delicately devised and so intelligently played; and I cannot remember
a film since The Crowd, by King Vidor, that so successfully and with
so little artificiality strove to give us the plain honour of families
and affections. But this is an exception among adaptations. Few of
those who adapt plays or novels for the screen have the courage and
imagination necessary to overcome the difficulties of their job : the
majority choose the lazy way of simple representation, shelving the
task of re-casting the material in a pure film form, and their work
is ruled out of any serious appreciation of the cinema.

Considered from this point of view, the films of the quarter from
Britain and America are not very imposing or important. New
versions of The Wandering Jew, Sorrell and Son, and The Constant
\xmph have been made in Britain, and Turkey Time and Red Wagon
have been adapted. The last is the most interesting film made by
British International since Hitchcock's Murder. Its story takes it
out into the English country-side, which, if indifferently photo-
graphed, is better than an Elstree set, and the film, despite its in-
consistencies, has a welcome sense of movement. The best British
film of the quarter has been Victor Saville's Friday the Thirteenth,
which, based on an original story, makes a real attempt to cut clear
of movie commonplace. Its basic idea of turning the clock back on
the lives of a number of people involved in a disaster has been used
before by Thornton Wilder in "The Bridge of San Luis Rey"; but
it is a good dramatic idea, and here the application — to a bus smash
in London — is done with fluency and efficiency. A great film could
not have been made of so facile a plot; but Saville has made an
ingenious and entertaining one.

America's films of the quarter also indicate considerable de-
pendence on the novelist and the playwright. Berkeley Square pre-
serves the intelligent dialogue and interesting theme of an admirable
play; Service, a little less skilfully, does the same for C. L. Anthony's
work; and Dinner at Eight, another faithful play adaptation, gives
M.G.M. an opportunity for a star display. Ann Vickers, Jennie
Gerhardt, and The Invisible Man are variously representative of the
novels used for films. With Power and Glory, however, an interesting
experiment has been made with a form of narration new to cinema,
in which the action is dependent on the memories of a man telling
a story. Had the material of the film been more intelligent, the
method might have attracted closer attention. As it is, we shall
probably hear of "narratage" again.

Among the other American films of the quarter are This Day ana
Age, in which Cecil de Mille turns to modern times again and re-
leases a dangerous incitement to anarchy in a story similar in some
respects to M ; and Blonde Bombshell, in which Hollywood, not content

"5

with the self-exposure of Once in a Lifetime, continues with an almost
malicious delight to laugh at itself. We have also seen Pm No Angel,
to which Eric Knight refers in his article on "Synthetic America."

Outside of Britain and America, the most interesting develop-
ments have taken place in France, and the importance of La
Maternelle and Foil de Carotte is discussed by Paul Rotha. Russia
makes a single but significant contribution to the quarter with
Deserter.

Several of the documentary films produced by the E.M.B. Film
Unit have been issued during the quarter, and these will be con-
sidered, with the new films of Basil Wright and Arthur Elton, in a
forthcoming article.

DESERTER

Production: Mejrabpomfilm. Direction: V. I. Pudovkin. Scenario: X.
Agadjanova-Shutko, M. Krasnostavski, A. Lezebnikov. Photography:
A. M. Golovnia. Art-Direction: A. Kozlovski. Music: I. Shaporin.

We owe a debt of gratitude to the London Film Society for
importing this new Pudovkin film, for although it may not take
us with fire, as did Storm Over Asia and Mother, it is nevertheless a
sizeable attempt which demands serious concentration.

In Deserter Pudovkin attempts to cover a greater canvas than any
director before him, selecting a theme more complex and wide-
meaning than any yet tackled in the Soviet or other producing
centre. I confess to being unable to describe the material in detail.
In its giant stride the narrative embraces most of the vital social
problems of a harassed world to-day — the struggle between the
classes, unemployment and poverty, the tragedy brought about by
economic crisis, the suffering of the working class, new hope in
new leaderships, newr ideals and new generations. There is tragedy,
deep-down and stark. There is comedy, transient but catching. There
is satire, penetrating and unanswerable. Whatever its faults, and it
has many, its director was inspired, and that is a sign of greatness.
By its very stature the picture is awe-inspiring. Only a Pudovkin
could have attempted the task and only a Pudovkin could have
fallen short of success by so small a margin of failure.

The central figure is a dock-worker in the Hamburg shipyards,
involved in endless strikes and wage-disputes. He is chosen as a
delegate to the Soviet Union, where he decides to remain and join
in the work of the Five- Year Plan. But he realises that he is a
deserter to his comrades in Germany and returns to take up the
struggle on his native soil.

The relation of the German worker to the mass is maintained

116

by dialectic argument. Long and frequent passages of dialogue,
treated in the crudest newsreel method, serve to put across the
Marxist philosophy. To the audience with no knowledge of the
Russian language these are naturally the dullest moments, relieved
only by the sudden crises of strike and conflict. The first part of the
film is probably the best. Pudovkin has always excelled at setting
the stage and the initial statement of his argument. You will recall
St. Petersburg and Storm Over Asia in this connection. The sequences
in the shipbuilding yards at Hamburg, the weakening of the strikers
and the final breaking of the strike by blacklegs and machine-guns
are the finest descriptive passages. Vet even in these I felt that
Pudovkin failed to get below the surface of the incidents. His pro-
letarian meetings did not secure my sympathy. There was no sense
in the shouting mouths of workers. They behaved like bawling
agitators and not like workmen fighting for an honest wage. By
now, also, I had imagined that Pudovkin had realised the futility
of exaggeration, but still there is the capitalist presented as a worth-
less, half-witted maniac, too lazy to speak, too tired to yawn. The
libel is so grossly untrue, the effigy so patently childish, that the
social purpose fails to score. Pudovkin cannot afford to lie, no
matter what propaganda is served. It weakens his case and destroys
our attention.

Technically, the film is as uneven as the presentation of its
theme. Moments of inspired direction and brilliant cutting are
alternated with long passages of mediocre cinematics which do not
seem the work of the same man. Here and there flashes of technical
skill stab us in the dark — falling chains, riveters at work, a riot
with the police, a suicide in the street. But they are all too rare amid
the monotonous treatment of the dialogue scenes. The sound i>
handled carefully and is based on a theory of conflicts. Unlike most
opinions, I found some of it effective. Shaporin's music was well
edited with actual sounds. At times it was used to create audience
emotion in direct contradiction to the visual image-, day music
accompanies a suicide, busy traffic is cut to the rhythm of a waltz t<>
express the lazy luxury of the capitalist world with the policeman at
point-duty performing the dual tasks of conductor of traffic and
music. But against all this we must bear with long, ugh' silem
and black-outs, disjointed and irritating.

Two years of toil have gone into the making of this strange
mixture. With A Simple Case Pudovkin entered a side-track, seeking
to impose formal method on theme. With Deserter he has penetrated
further into the wilderness. But I cannot help but admire his
courage and inspiration, his integrity and knowledge: and who are
we 10 say whether he is right or wrong when the ground that he is
treading is still unexplored? Paul Rotha.

JI7

LA MATERNELLE

Production: Photosonor. Direction: Benoit-Levy and Marie Epstein. Photo-
graphy: G. Asselin. Art Direction: Max Rossi. Music: Edouard
Flament. With Madeline Renaud, Mady Berry, Paulette Flambert.

This surely is the child-picture to end child-pictures for the
time being; and no better picture could be found to mark a semi-
colon in this vogue for child actors. But let me say outright that
this is in many ways an admirable film, most intelligently made, and
played on all sides with a tenderness and sensibility that compel our
respect. It is a story of Rose who, disappointed in love and deserted
by her fiance, takes work as a nursemaid in a children's school.
Among the kids is Marie, whose mother is a tart, and thus the child is
left much alone. She is known to the staff as being "difficult,' in
that her mentality is curiously complex. Her particular liking for
animals plays an important part in events. When the old cook is
about to throw a live mouse into the fire, it is Marie who struggles
and bites to prevent the creature from being harmed. And as you
expect, Marie's queer aloofness attracts to her the suppressed Rose.
So the picture develops until the doctor, who is one of the super-
intendents of the school, declares his wish to marry Rose. Thus,
once again, little Marie sees a man taking away her beloved one,
just as she had seen her mother depart, and the child throws herself
into the river. A rescue is effected, however.

Not particularly well-edited or photographed, the picture is
notable for its brilliant treatment of the child mind, and the two
directors are to be congratulated on their knowledge of child psy-
chology. Throughout there are frequent incidents which reveal a
deep understanding of children's mind-behaviour, from the little
boy who cannot smile to the odd twisted attitude adopted by Marie
when she is unhappy. The naturalness of the characterisation on
the part of the adults and their attitude towards the children — one
of the most difficult things to obtain on the screen — demands par-
ticular praise. Comedy is plentiful but is never forced. Sympathy
is forthcoming for even the head-mistress because her moron mind
is presented so naturally that her narrowness of outlook is to be
pitied rather than condemned. Such sympathetic handling is all the
more remarkable when we consider that no single player could be
described as being physically likeable. Even little Marie, with her
crooked teeth, sticking-out plaits and wan, thin face, is hardly
attractive, and yet our sympathy is wholly with her. There are
many emotionally disturbing moments; the final scene, when the
doctor and Marie shake hands and become friends, being among the
high spots of the year's cinema.

118

From Wyn Harris's 16 mm. record of
the Everest Expedition, taken without
previous experience on a Kodak
camera. The film, which lasts for 75
minutes, has been publicly shown
on a full screen at the London
Polytechnic and should do much to
popularise sub-standard production.
Enquiries regarding the hire of this
film should be sent to the Royal
Geographical Society, Kensington,
London, S.W.7.

Belo\

From Fritz Lang's "The Spy." One of
the Ufa classics" which is now avail-
able for home projection in the 9.5
mm. Pathescope Library.

9*

LONDON
FILMS

PROUDLY PRESENT

c

H
A
R

L
E
S

L
A
U
G
H
T
O
N

"THE PRIVATE LIFE OF

IN

HENRY VIII

//

Directed by

ALEXANDER KORDA

The Film that will make Screen History

The production as a whole is unpretentious, singularly free
from novelty technique and obviously inexpensive. In no other
country but France would such a theme be considered movie, and
yet it teaches every producer in Britain and America the value of
psychology and treatment in movie-approach. Apart from its
general appeal, which should be wide, it is a film which I would
like shown to every school-teacher and worker in child-welfare
organizations. They would find much to learn.

Paul Roth a.

POIL DE CAROTTE

Production: Vandal and Delluc. Direction: Duvivier. Photograph):
Thiraud and Monniot. Montage: Marthe Poncin. With Robert
Lynen, Fetix-Baur, etc.

This is a film which is particularly hard to assess. It has much
which gives pleasure and much which is ridiculous; an odd mixture
of the vices and virtues of cinema. If I recommend it, it is because
Duvivier has something which the makers of other child films at
the moment lack. If I abuse it, it is because there is so much non-
sense about its character-drawing and because the case which it
puts is surely unique and bears little relation to the wide problem
of child-psychology. From the beginning we feel that this eccentric
family cannot exist, that such conditions as those which drive
young Poil de Garotte to attempt suicide are falsely conceived.
Yet, despite this unbelief, Duvivier has created such a background
with his trees and clouds and animals that portions of the film draw
breath and for a fleeting moment exist. There are some great
moments, moments which will remain in your mind, such as the
wedding-march across the sun-splashed meadows and the crazy
drive home in the gig. But return to the studio and Duvivier
returns to his crude background, his stupid, spoilt children, his
bearish father, his good-natured uncle, his overdrawn, overacted and
exasperating mother — all figures from a fairy book. Not for one
moment can we pretend that he deals seriously with the com-
plexities of childhood or that he creates in Poil de Carotte a be-
lievable child.

It is the same from a technical aspect. Some sequences are de-
lightfully handled, simple and direct; others are absurdly pretentious
with trick effects and double-exposures. A great deal has been
made of Robert Lynen's performance. Much as I admire his ex-
pressive capabilities and undoubted charm, you cannot compare
his artificial playing with the naturalness of young Paulette Flam-
bert in La Maternelle. The two men give skilled performances.

Paul Roth a.

121

HUNTED PEOPLE (LE LOUP GAROU)

Direction: Friedrich Feher. Camera: Ewald Daub. Scenario: Feher and
Fraenkel. Art Direction: E. Scharf. With Eugene Klopfer, Hans
Feher, Vladimir Sokolov, Magda Sonja, Camilla Spira, Friederich
Ettel, Emilia Unda.

Little seems to be known of how this picture came to be made,
when or where it was produced, or even who sponsored it. It opens
with a fancy impression of Marseilles — the docks, the narrow streets,
the steel bridge, the ministry of justice — and then by means of a
viaduct along the coast takes us to the little village of Longville.
Here a stout, middle-aged and prosperous joiner has just been
married for the second time. He has risen in the world and has
secured for his new wife the pretty daughter of the mayor. But while
the nuptial festivities are at their height the local gendarmerie has
identified the husband in a photograph of the bridal pair published
in the Press as none other than an escaped convict. According
to the law of France, the husband cannot be reimprisoned if he has
eluded capture for ten years. Needless to say, the ten years are up
all save for two days.

A gendarme presents himself at the house. Immediately the
jolly joiner knows the game is up, but he decides to make a run for
it. Accompanied by hib small son, Boubou, he contrives to get
away from the guarded house by hiding in a coffin (a good piece
of cinema, this) while his wife and guests are making merry. He
gets an illicit lift on a train, escapes in a tunnel and wanders about
the streets of Marseilles. At every corner he hears a broadcast de-
scription of himself and his son. He secures a change of clothes for
them both from a pawnbroker (admirably played by our old friend
Vladimir Sokolov), sleeps with the down-and-outs in the docks, is
disturbed by the fort sentries, makes a dash for the fair-ground,
where the legless lady in a freak show turns out to be the sister of
the woman he is supposed to have murdered and who really com-
mitted the crime herself.

In all this you will see ordinary melodrama without any dis-
tinction. But there are three things which lift the film above the
conventional: the treatment, the acting, and the music.

In these days of "come up and see me" entertainment it is
seldom we come across a film which is built up on an analysis of a
single mood. For that we must go right back to the tradition of the
early Germans — to The Street, New Year's Eve, The Cab and Phantom.
The events in Feher's film are immaterial. There is one situation
at the beginning; the rest is logical conclusion. The fast-moving
sequences are simply a framework on which to hang a study of fear.

122

a grim paralysis of body and soul such as only the German movie
can express with full grandeur.

The fat jolly joiner, who is suddenly seized with a paroxysm oi
fear that his carefully-built-up life will be shattered, is played by
that stage-actor Eugene Klopfer, whom you will recall in The Street,
Mew Year's Eve, Martin Luther and The Earl of Essex. He has the true
Germanic laboured style of heavy movements, which will remind
you of Jannings. And it is his acting, drawn out by Feher's handling,
that largely makes this picture interesting. His acting spreads
beyond him, envelops the environment, bends the material to his
will, just as Veidt in The Student of Prague or Wegener in The Golem.
But it has this difference, that unlike the early German films it is
played largely against an authentic background. The streets and
alleys of Marseilles play as great a part in the building of the fear
mood as the bogey man of Boubou's imagination. That is where
Feher has been clever.

Although no credit is given for the music, it is obviously specially
written for the film. Its phrasing is admirably in sympathy with the
changes of mood. It swells to a climax, cuts sharp to silence, build-
slowly again and so on. It is essentially an accompaniment em-
phasising the action, and I found it singularly successful.

Paul Roth a.

MAYOR OF HELL

Production: Warner Brothers. Scenario: Chodorov. Direction: Archie
Mayo. Photography: Barry McGill. Editing: Jack Kellifer. With
James Cagney, Dudley Digges, Madge Evans, Frankie Da no.

What if this picture is inspired by The Road to Life? The inspiration
is good and the idea behind the film admirable. It marks one of the
biggest steps forward in the American movie's attempt to find
themes in current social material. Do not confuse it casually with
De Mille's This Day and Age. It is more important.

A gang of kid hooligans is broken up by the police and the
ringleaders sent to a reform school, which is being run on a graft
basis by a particularly villainous superintendent. A new deputv
commissioner (Cagney) is appointed as a result of his assistance in
a racket political election. The new commissioner has three virtues:
an eye for women, a liking for "guts" and a sense of fairplay. The
woman is the nurse at the school. He contrives to take over
running of the school, establishes a self-governing republic among
the boys and all is well — perhaps with a little too much haste to
be wholly convincing. But the racket behind him forces a shoot i \
and he has to go under cover. The late superintendent again take^
over, reinstates his old methods, leading eventually to a boy's dea

123

The boys revolt, try the superintendent in their court, where he
commits suicide. Cagney arrives in time to quell the revolt, makes
i he boys see reason and continues his job as superintendent with
the girl as his wife.

There is more to it than this. The wider issues of crime and
education are brought up in a manner new, at any rate, to American
cinema. Some exposure is made of the system obtaining in American
reform schools, its obvious chance for graft management and a
solution offered. You may not agree with much of the detail, but
you cannot deny the exposure, and if you have any feelings at all
towards the prevailing conditions of society you cannot fail to agree
that here the cinema is on its right ground, facing realities as they
must be faced. You may complain with me that the scenario does
not go far enough, that it does not expose the roots of the social
system which permits such education and upbringing, that we are
not shown the boys' homes and environment which condition their
outlook, that the film is, in fact, only a half-way house — but at the
same time you will agree that its theme and treatment are a welcome
change from ordinary Hollywood sin stories.

It has nothing new in technique. Cagney is excellent and con-
veys the impression that he is sincere in his behaviour. Dudley
Digges overacts, but the mob-mentality demands it. It is one of the
most stimulating American films I have seen for months.

Paul Roth a.

WORTH NOTING

S.O.S. ICEBERG [American. Universal). The Arnold Fanck brigade
of Alpine Endeavour has, I am sorry to say, suffered a landslide in
UniversaPs new epic of the North. All the old stunts are paraded
afresh: white snows and dark skies, aeroplane rescues and crashing
ice, but this time the story fails even to attempt probability and
frankly returns to the '05 melos. The picture was apparently con-
ceived by the Fanck outfit in Germany, but was taken over by
Universal when the original sponsors dropped out; consequently,
the film comes out as conceived by little Laemmle Junior, and is
prefaced by a personal tribute to the staff who gave their heroic
efforts for the sake of Uncle Carl Laemmle and all. If you can
stomach all this, there is some remarkable long-focus photography
of icebergs and glaciers which is new to the screen from the cameras
of Schneeberger and Angst, some very beautiful aerial shots secured
by the dauntless Udet, and a nicely handled Esquimaux village
sequence. And it all winds up with yet another "Laemmle special'
ending, the superimposed figures marching onwards into the sky.

P. R.
124

THE WANDERING JEW (British. Twickenham Film Studios) . This
film has a magnificent opportunity to pattern the landscape of
history. But theatrical conventions still tie the hands of Britisli
producers. "Costumes by Clarkson' in the credit titles typifies the
director's attitude. In not one particular does the play emerge into
movement. True to the tradition of costume pictures, sex is the
motivation of every incident. The Jew wanders through history on
a series of amorous exploits.

We once claimed that movie knocked a hole in the theatre wall.
This picture demonstrates how we are replacing the walls of the
theatre with the limits of the screen. Nothing ever happens outside
the frame; we are ever conscious of the scenes brought to life by
the producer's command to shoot.

This pageant of sex is graced by four of our leading stage
actresses who belong to the British school "never forget you are a
lady." But Conrad Veidt is the film, and the film is Conrad Veidt,
and your enjoyment will depend on whether you can stand ten reels
of Veidt undiluted, with no directional bridling. He runs the
gamut of emotions without restraint. The chief virtues of this
film have their source in Sidney Blythe, the cameraman, whose
lighting and photography are consistently brilliant.

D. F. Taylor.

FOOTLIGHT PARADE (American. Warner Brothers). This is a
triumph of showmanship. It belongs to a familiar type of screen
revue, but the exploitation of spectacle has seldom produced a film
in which the pictorial values are so outstanding. Its appeal is
primarily to the eye. The musical trimmings are inferior to those
of Forty-Second Street, hitherto regarded as the acme of the Warner
achievement in revue. One sequence — for which Lloyd Bacon, the
director, and George Barnes, the cameraman, take most of the
credit — is probably the loveliest creation yet seen in films of this
type. It owes much to the Goldwyn discovery, in The Kid From Spain.
that choreographic patterns can be charmingly described in a
Nwimming-pool by amphibious bathing beauties. It is, however,
a finer achievement, and the evolutions of the tinselled bodies
now spreading outward like flower petals, now assembling in coils
like a vast snake — testify to real feeling for the beauty of mass move-
ment. The camera angles are well chosen. It was a happy thought
to shoot part of the aquatic ballet from below the water. The
result is magical. The film will have interest for admirers of James
( agney. He surprisingly reveals gifts as a singer and tap-dancer.

Campbell Nairne.

J25

FILM SOCIETIES

MORE NEW VENTURES

After holding a preliminary meeting in May last, the Croydon
Film Society organised a further public meeting at the Croydon
Picture House on 5th November, Anthony Asquith addressing the
meeting. The result of these two meetings was very encouraging,
and it was decided to proceed with arrangements for the first season.
An application for permission to hold meetings on Sunday after-
noons was accordingly made to the Croydon Council and, after a
lengthy discussion, permission was refused. A subsequent applica-
tion was successful, and a licence has now been granted, subject,
however, to the following extraordinary terms: — (a) "]\ per cent, of
the Society's income to be devoted to charity; (b) all films to be
submitted to a sub-committee of the Croydon Council; and [c] not
more than two guest tickets to be allotted to any one member. The
Hon. Secretary is G. R. Bailey, 51 High Street, Croydon.

After all arrangements had been made to hold the performances
of the third season of the Leeds Film Group on Sunday evenings at
the Academy Cinema, the Magistrates reconsidered their decision
and withdrew their licence. Formerly, performances of silent films
had been given on week nights in a small private theatre.

Meanwhile an attempt is being made to form a society in
Huddersfield, and if the sanction of the Watch Committee can be
obtained, fortnightly performances will be given on Sunday even-
ings. Three hundred members are required to make possible a
subscription of 10s. 6d. for six or eight shows.

Aberdeen Film Guild intends to start a series of Sunday perform-
ances when negotiations for a suitable cinema are completed. The
Hon. Secretary is J. M. Mitchell, Press and Journal Office, Aberdeen.

THE FILM SOCIETY, 56 Manchester Street, London, W.i. 5th Nov.
I Couldn't have Believed It (Publicity Films). Zuts' Cartoon (Film Soc). Pudovkin's
Deserter (Film Soc). 19th Nov. Canal Barge (Film Soc). E.M.B. Shorts.
Anna and Elisabeth (Film Soc). 10th Dec. Castles and Fisherfolk (Publicity
Films). Architects' Congress (Film Soc). Fischinger's Hand Drawn Sound Experi-
ment (Film Soc). A. B.C. in Sound (Film Soc). Extracts from Ruttmann's
Acciaio (Film Soc). L 'Affaire est Dans le Sac (Film Soc).

BIRMINGHAM FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. S. G. Hawes, 163 Pershore Road,
Birmingham. 22nd October. Tour de Chant (Film Soc). Shakespeare's Country
(Gaumont). Der Hauptmann von Kopenick (Film Soc). 12th November, ^uyderzee
Dyke (Film Soc). King's English (B.I.F.). Coral and its Creatures. Le Rosier de Madame
Husson (Film Soc). 10th Dec E.M.B. Films. The Schufftan Process (Process
Productions). Reiniger's Harlequin (Film Soc). Der Traumende Miind (Film Soc).

126

CHESHIRE FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. Diana Baerlein, Whatcroft Hall,

Northwich. 19th Oct. £uyderzee Dyke (Film Soc.). Disney's Monkej M ■
(Gaumont). Barbarina (Beacon). 9th Nov. Marvels of the Amazon. En V
' Film Soc.) 7th December. Charleston (Film Soc.;. Mickey in Arabia Gaumont)
Tabu (Paramount).

CROYDON FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. G. R. Bailey, 51 High Street, Croydon.
3rd Dec. Turbulent Timber (G.B. Distributors). Lichtertanz (Filmophone . Bh
bottle* (Film Soc.). Der Hauptmann von Kopenick (Film Soc).

EDINBURGH FILM GUILD, 17 S. St. Andrew Street, Edinburgh. 2. 29th ( >■
Black Diamonds Wardour) . Excerpt from Love on Wheels (Gaumont). Der Hauptma
von Kopenick Film Soc). 19th Nov. Cinemagazinc, Is Gretna Green (Gaumont).
Pacific 2jr (Film Soc). The Country Comes to Town (Gaumont). The Road to L
(Arcos), 10th Dec Power (Zenifilms). Ekstase (Film Soc). Le Qiiatorze Juillei
Film Soc).

On 1 6th Oct. Victor Saville lectured to the Guild, accompanied by Madeleine
Carroll, and on 9th Dec an address was given by Miss Lockett, of G.-B.
Instructional Films, following which there was an exhibition of Gaumont 16mm.
film-.

FILM SOCIETY OF GLASGOW. Hon. Sec. D. Paterson Walker, 127 -
Vincent Street, Glasgow, C.2. 5th Nov. King's English (B.I.F.,. Pacific 231 (Film
Soc). Le Qiiatorze J uillet (Film Soc). 29th Nov. Flight Machine (B.I.F.) . Prague
(Film Soc). Harlequin (Film Soc). Der Traumende Mund (Film Soc). 10th Dec
The Blue Angel (Wardour). Sous les Toits de Paris (Wardour).

On 10th Dec John Grierson addressed the Society on his work as a document-
ary director.

LEICESTER FILM SOCIETY, Vaughan College, Leicester. 21st Oct. Cam-
bridge B.I.F.;. A Bronx Morning (Film Soc). Brumes D'Automne (Film Soc.). Dei
Hauptmann von Kopenick (Film Soc). 18th Nov. Springtime at the %po fB.I.F. .
Disney's Fox Hunt (Gaumont). Der Traumende Mund (Film Soc).

MAIDSTONE FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. Miss G. M. Nicholson, Fowden Hall,
London Road, Maidstone. This new society holds its performances on Sunday
evenings at the Palace Theatre. The subscription is 10s. 6d. The first performance
included The Blue Light (Universal). 17th Dec En Natt (A.P.df.D.). N
Generation (New Era).

MANCHESTER AND SALFORD WORKERS' FILM SOCIETY, 86 Hull
Street, ^alford. 21st Oct. Lichtertanz (Filmophone). Harlequin Film Soc). K\
Parade Arcos . The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. 18th Nov. Peasant Women of Riazan.
World Melody. 16th Dec. The Battle of Life. Joan of Arc.

MERS1 ASIDE FILM INSTITUTE SOCIETY, 44 Ullet Road, Liverpool, 17.
20th Oct. Don Quixote (U. Artists). Contact (Wardour). 25th Nov. The R
to Life (Arcos). On 30th Nov. a lecture was given by Paul Rotha. During January
there is to be an exhibition of stills and a demonstration of sub-standard apparatus

NORTHWICH FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. W. Baldwin Fletcher, I.C.I.
Alkali) Ltd., Winnington, Northwich. This new society holds its performances

on week-day evenings in the Recreation Park Pavilion. It has no subscription,
other than an admission charge to each performance. 27th Sept. The Invasion of
Shanghai (Film Soc). Mickey Mouse. Pitz Pain (Universal). 26th Oct.
Contact Wardour . This is Paris that I fas. Mickey Mouse. Kamerad
Nat. Distributors). 29th Nov. Gold of the North (Gaumont). Licther! ilmo-

phone). Le Million .Universal .

127

OXFORD CITY FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. Mrs. Hilda Harrisson, Sandlands,
Boars Hill, Oxford. This society is now properly established and plans to give
eight performances in the Scala Cinema. The subscription is ios. 5th Nov.
Bluebottles (Film Soc). Mickey Mouse. Turbulent Timber (G.B. Distributors).
Der Hauptmann von Kopenick (Film Soc). 3rd Dec. The Danube. Disney's Flowers
and Trees (United Artists). Westfront igi8 (Film Soc). 29th Nov. The Front
Page (United Artists). The Fall of the House of Usher (Film Soc). 1 7th Dec Pacific
j?ji (Film Soc). Trader Mickey (Gaumont). Bathtime at the Z00 (B.I.F.). The
Ghost that Never Returns (Arcos).

OXFORD UNIVERSITY FILM SOCIETY. 15th Oct. Harlequin (Film Soc).
Disney's Skeleton Dance (Gaumont). Der Traumende Mund (Film Soc). 29th Oct.
Tour de Chant (Film Soc). Chaplin's Floorwalker (Radio). Pred Maturitou (Film
Soc). 26th Nov. Canal Barge (Film Soc). October 15. Disney's Babes in the Wood
(United Artists). Potemkin (Arcos). 12th Nov. Symphony of the Sea (B.I.F.).
Moholy Nagy's Lichtspiel (Film Soc). Disney's Bears and Bees (United Artists).
<0o in Budapest (Fox).

SOUTHAMPTON FILM SOCIETY. Hon. General Sec, J. S. Fairfax-Jones.
Southampton: A. Tomlinson, D. A. Yeaman, 21 Ethelbert Avenue, Bassett Green.
Winchester: Ruth Keyser, C. J. Blackbourne, 12 St. Swithan Street. All per-
formances are now held on Sunday afternoon, and a branch establishment has
been formed at Winchester. The society has a group for lectures and discussions,
and a course of lectures at University College is in course of negotiation. 12 th Nov.
Turbulent Timber (G.B. Distributors). Harlequin (Film Soc). Prague (Film Soc).
A Nous La Liber te (Universal). 3rd Dec. Magic Myxies (B.I.F.). Fischinger Abstract
(Filmophone). Steel (G.B. Distributors). Der Traumende Mund (Film Soc).

WEST ESSEX FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec, A. L. Watson, 9 First Avenue,
Plaistow. This new society has a clubroom and library, and is making a trailer
to advertise its activities on the local screens. Work will shortly commence on a
silhouette film based on a classic poem. Early in January there will be given a
performance of revived silent films. The subscription is 6s. a quarter.

The London University Film Society held a number of perform-
ances of silent films earlier in the vear in the theatre at the London
School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. Its activities are now
temporarily suspended pending the installation of sound apparatus
at that theatre.

1FMA INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKERS ASSOCIATION

Write to

The Hon. Secretary, G. A. SHAW
32 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, W.l
For Prospectus

Co-operative Effort Film Exchange

Professional Advice Members' Bulletin

Reviews of Films Official Organ

Scenario Service Summer School

FM A

Documentary • Experimental • Educational

128

THE

INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER

Official Organ of The Independent Film-Makers Association

Hon. Secretary: G. A. SHAW, 32 Shaftesbury Avenue, LONDON, W. 1
Hon. Treasurer: J. C. H. DUNLOP, 4a St Andrew Square, EDINBURGH, 2

Advisers :

ANTHONY ASQUITH ANDREW BUCHANAN JOHN GRIERSON

ALAN HARPER STUART LEGG PAUL ROTHA BASIL WRIGHT

DOCUMENTARY • EXPERIMENTAL • EDUCATIONAL

IFMA

A few months ago the Independent Film-Makers Association was
started. As with most new schemes at their inception, there were
doubts about it. Were there enough amateurs wanting specialised
information about definite aspects of their work who were not
catered for by the local societies and groups? Were there even
people taking their work seriously enough to want professional
advice?

There were. People have wanted all sorts of advice. Some
setting out on their first movie Odyssey have written for infor-
mation about equipment. For contacts with other workers. For
criticism of their films. They have written to argue the finer points
of Pudovkin on Sound, or to find out the right filters to take to the
West Indies.

In fact, a host of keen people want to make films and want to
make those films as well as possible. To these our advisers have
given the best of their professional experience; experience that
means something; the experience of people who are making films.

The scheme is started — that, for the moment, is enough.

Stuart Legg's article in this issue is important, very important.
Read it — learn it by heart even — but above all put it into practice.
The clearer the treatment the better chance the finished film has
of being a comprehensive whole.

The first issue of the Ifma Bulletin will appear very shortly
It will contain details of a Summer School, Scenario Service and
Film Exchange plans.

129

NVITATION TO INDEPENDENT PRODUCERS

At the International Exhibition of Cinematographic Art, which
is to be held at Venice, in August, under the auspices of the
XIX Biennale d' Arte, there will be presented a representative selection
of the best films of all nations. In addition to the usual commercial
productions, the organisers are anxious to include films by inde-
pendent and vanguard producers, to whom an invitation to co-
operate has been issued by Attilio Fontana, Exhibition Secretary,
LI. E.G., Via Lazzaro Spallanzani la, Rome. Before submitting
films, which must be of recent production and "of the highest
artistic value," a full description and a selection of stills should be
sent to Rome.

Included in the new Gaumont-British Equipments 16 mm. sound-
on-film library are Sunshine Susie, Jack's the Boy, Love on Wheels
and Rome Express. A number of Ideal Cinemagazines and Gainsborough
Miniatures are also available. All films are non-flam and may
be hired for 5s. per reel per day.

In conjunction with the Manchester Ramblers' Federation the
Manchester Film Society is producing a film called Manchester at
Work and Play. It also intends to make an abstract entitled Heads
from a scenario by G. F. Dalton.

One of the original members of the Cambridge University Cinema
Society, who has made a serious study of film technique, has started
a new service for the benefit of those who have ideas for film scenarios
but lack the experience or the time for putting them into shape.
His agency is known as the Regent Literary Service.

Charles Hamner, the former miner and producer of Black Diamonds,
is planning to start a studio at Barnsley for the production of films
for children. These will be mainly fairy stories and pantomimes and
will be acted by children.

A London group of the Independent Film-makers Association will
shortly be formed, and an attempt is being made to form a similar
group in Glasgow. Enquiries, in the first instance, should be sent
to the Hon. Secretary, I.F.M.A.

The Meteor Film Producing Society, Glasgow, is one of the most
energetic groups in the country. It has a well-equipped studio, and
arranges lectures and exhibitions. At the Scottish Film Festival,
which it recently organised, Victor Saville awarded first prize to
one of the Society's own films, All on a Summer's Day. It hopes soon
to make a number of short documentaries on 35 mm. The Hon.
Secretary is Stanley L. Russell, 14 Kelvin Drive, Glasgow, N.W.

1 30

THE FILM ON PAPER

PLANNING THE PRODUCTION

STUART LEGG

Director of The New Generation '

In any production some sort of preliminary planning, howevn
vague and inexact, is necessary. Otherwise a "few-shots-strung-
together" interest picture of the type we pray to be delivered from
is the inevitable result. The three stages of making a film — scenario,
shooting, cutting — are each a selective process; so that the earlier
a selective attitude is adopted, the greater will be the co-ordination
of thought all through the making of the film. And, perhaps more
important still, selection at the first (scenario) stage will lead straight-
way to the saving of time and money.

Pre-shooting paper work is a progressive choosing of "aspects.'1
In choosing an aspect of general existence, you choose your subject.
In choosing an aspect of that subject, you choose your theme. The
theme is that particular aspect of the subject, and latent in it, which
you are going to bring to the fore in your film. Its choice depends
largely upon your personal feelings towards the subject. You may
foster a purely scientific feeling for it; you may be concerned with
the politics involved ; you may be interested in a sociological aspect of
it. But whatever your reaction to the subject, it is essential to choose
a definite theme from it, for the theme is the raison d'etre of the film.
The theme is not necessarily a movie conception in itself; it appear^
in visual terms in the next stage of preparation — the treatment.
But it must be a single, precise entity, and all other themes and bits
of themes must be shelved. By sticking to one theme and one theme
only, clarity of construction is ensured.

Next comes the problem of how to handle the real-life material
from which the film is going to be made. This is solved in the
process of writing the treatment. With the theme already chosen,
the method of treatment is, to a certain extent, determined. If your
theme is scientific, you will be most concerned with some concrete
product of the subject, ways and means of obtaining it, and its place
in the general economic scale. If political, you will be occupied with
the attitude of the people of the subject towards each other and
towards their work. If sociological, you will be interested in bringing
alive the people themselves and their actual relationships to each
other and to the subject. And so on. So you will tend to constru

J3i

your film expositionally, syinphonically, lyrically, or by any other
method, according to the aspect of the subject you have chosen for
the theme. These methods are by no means mutually exclusive;
each is used where and when it is wranted, according to the require-
ments of the theme. The writing of the treatment is another selective
process. The main work in it is the seeking out of those visual
aspects of the available material which best express the theme. You
will probably concern yourself first with the "chunks" of the material
which will go to form the sequences of the film. There may be many
such chunks available for shooting. But which of them are
relevant to, and best bear out the theme? Which of them readily
lend themselves to movie construction? Then, when the chunks
are selected, in what order are they to be used, to give the best
form to the finished film? These considerations must be carefully
weighed, and the chunks selected and ordered into the sequences
of the film. Next, you will take each chunk separately and
analyse what goes on inside them. These analyses, when built up
into visual terms, will form the shots and combinations of shots
within each sequence. In determining how to treat the material
in each chunk, don't merely look to surface appearances, or you
will get a smooth, easy, meatless tale. Surface exposition and
surface drama may be well and useful in its place, but it is not the
business of films to record the obvious. Look behind the surface
for drama more closely allied to the essence of the chunk you are
interpreting; the use of latent dramatic references brings more
power to the film because of their closer intimacy to the material.
Take, for instance, a telephone exchange; there is drama, obvious
drama, in the fact that the exchange is the hub of the city's com-
munications. But go closer, and you will hear the separate voices
of the city, each deep in its own affairs, each telling a story of its
own. And from these isolated stories vou can cross-section the life
of the city, the drama of commerce, of industry, of homes. Perhaps
the best way of going about this analysis is to catalogue systematically
all relevant observations, and to start lines of co-ordinative thought
from spontaneous details of people and things. These details often
give valuable clues to the best way of treating each chunk of
material.

Direct observation leads to the consideration of two elements in
any given happening or event: what and who. First, consider the
what. Look not only for what is happening, but also for the attendant
circumstances of the event, which will orientate it and stamp it as
that particular event and no other. For example, a big business
man dictating in his office: perhaps the attendant circumstances
which best stamp the scene as "big business" are the beflagged map
on the wall behind the man, and the imperious buzzer on his desk.

132

Look further for the pace of what is happening, for pace is the factor
leading to drama. The slow, measured, to-and-fro walk of the busi-
ness man as he dictates is an essential element in his scene. Se< ond,
consider the who. Look not only for who is concerned in the hap-
pening, but for the attendant circumstances of the who, which will
orientate and stamp the person in relation to the event. For in-
stance, in Voice of the World Elton showed the turning on of power in
the power-house to bring electricity to the factory. The electrician
by whom this was done had only one eye. So Elton told us something
more about that man than that he was merely an electrician. Look
then for the significance of the person in regard to the event, how he
or she is bound up with it. In the same sequence of Voice <>j the II odd
the steadv, confident arm movement of the electrician related him
instantly to the machinery of which he had charge. Then, the com-
bination of these two elements of a given event, the what and the
who, the welding of them together into a whole, will bring co-
ordination to the event and will lead to poetry, imagery, ceremony —
that is, it will give a spiritual reference to an ordinary happening.

Having analysed the material available for shooting, and ex-
tracted from it all those aspects which have bearing on the proposed
interpretation, it is now necessary to build up visually all these parts
into their place in the treatment. Literary conceptions and literary
embellishments must be conspicuous by their absence. This is not
a didactic convention: it is a practical necessity. Literary ideas
invariably make bad movie, and in many cases are utterly impossible
to shoot. Every descriptive word of a good treatment adds a visual
component to the whole. At this stage, questions of proportion in
dealing with the material must be settled. Which of the previously
selected chunks are most important in relation to the theme?
These are the ones to receive more exhaustive attention, greater
elaboration, and possibly greater length. Others, less meaty, musl
take second place. Others again, though visually pleasant, may
have to be excluded altogether, since they do not sufficiently assist
the theme. The position ol tempo changes must also be determined:
that is, the points where dramatisation of material will begin.
Points where one form of construction will emerge from another
must be considered; what sections will be purely explanative, v. hat
sections will be shot in such a way as to allow the material and its
inferences to dominate over the general theme. Points i^r special
emphasis in shooting or cutting must be fixed. So. with the theme
selected from the subject, the treatment from the theme, and the
methods of interpretation from the relevant aspects of the material
itself, the shooting-script — the blue-print shot-by-shol plan of the
film — can be written.

In the shooting-script you will begin to consider how the photo-

133

graphic apparatus at your disposal can help you to shape the
material before you, how it can explain, elaborate, emphasize and
strengthen — in fact, how the camera and its accessories can turn
actual fact into movie shape. But don't be too confident of the
finished shooting-script. Very few can resist the temptation of
hacking it about during the shooting to include some new develop-
ment which suddenly presents itself. And a new spontaneity may
often be gained by doing this. As long as the main lines of the
treatment are rigidly adhered to, and irrelevant prettinesses relig-
iously eschewed — the shooting-script can be respectfully forgotten.

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY CINEMA SOCIETY

An attempt to break away not only from sub-standard stock but
also from the type of story which, we readily admit, can be more
easily and more efficiently turned out by the trade, has been made
by the Cambridge University Cinema Society in its recent production
Power, which is being distributed by Zenifilms.

Although many people have much spare time at Cambridge,
the spare time of different people does not often coincide; and
therefore it is difficult to get a large unit together for any length of
time. Documentary is the ideal material for a university film
society. Contrary to popular belief, there are many young men in
Cambridge who will work like niggers, at work both manual and
secretarial. There are also the young men with ideas, so often
heard of; and these ideas are given coherent form by means of
lectures and practical film work. As for material, Cambridge can
provide anything from the most modern laboratories to the most
ancient buildings and a beautiful country-side.

The subject of Power presents great possibilities. Had time
allowed, it would have been made a two-reeler. It is actually a
one-reeler; but the subject has not been skimped, and the film flows
easily from the first efforts of man to harness the winds and the
waters, to the most modern developments of steam and electrical
power.

The film was directed by Gordon Taylor. It was written by
him in conjunction with Maurice Harvey, who is now directing
Pygmalion for the society, which he also wrote.

Also under production at present is a film of the building of the
vast new library at Cambridge, for which half the cost, £500,000,
was given by the Rockefeller Trust. The director is Roger Colville-
Wallis; on the camera are P. L. Mollison and C. D. Pegge, (the
author of Bombay Riots) . David Watson.

134

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The film industry of the world has never known in its
whole history such a meteoric rise as the rise of LONDON
FILM PRODUCTIONS.

In one year we reached the very forefront of the film
industry. In the next year we mean to keep this place,
attained for the first time by a British Producing Company.

All the world acclaims the films made by LONDON
FILM PRODUCTIONS, the Company which made British
Films famous the world over and killed the ridiculous
belief that no world film can be made in England. Our
Trade Mark 'BIG BEN' sounds in every capital of the
world! 'HENRY VIII' is acknowledged the world over
as one of the greatest films of the past decade. It won a
Gold Medal in London as the best film of 1933 ! Voted by
four hundred American film critics as one of the best three
films shown in U.S.A. Charles Laughion's genius as
Henry VIII wins for England for the first time the coveted
award of the Academy of Motion Pictures.

But our films mean not only artistic triumph. ' HENRY
VIII' ran fourteen weeks in London in the Leicester Square
Theatre. In Paris it is still showing in its original English
version after twenty-four weeks. It ran for weeks in almost
every capital city of the world! Berlin ten weeks, still
running — Vienna six weeks, still running — Prague four weeks
— Budapest seven weeks, still running — Rome three weeks —
Milan two weeks — Brussels thirteen weeks, still running —
Madrid three weeks — Barcelona two weeks — Copenhagen
six weeks — Stockholm five weeks — Oslo two weeks — Riga
two weeks — Cairo two weeks — Buenos Ayres four weeks,
still running — in New York it has run for five months on
Broadway. We have booked this film so far, in the British
Isles, to over two thousand theatres, to over two thousand
theatres in Germany, to over a thousand theatres in France,

LONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS

i37

io over six hundred in Italy and to over four hundred in
Spain. In the United States ' HENRY VIII ' has booked io over
five thousand eight hundred theatres, and there is no country
in the world except Russia where the film is not booked.

The whole industry wailed for our next film. The
question was could we keep up the self-created standard.
The answer was ' CATHERINE THE GREAT ' ! It was the
same success the world over! 'CATHERINE THE GREAT'
is now in its twelfth week in the West End, its
fifth week on Broadway, its tenth week in Paris and long
runs in almost every capital in the world. It has booked
to over six thousand theatres in the United States, twelve
hundred theatres in France, six hundred and forty five in
Italy and five hundred in Spain.

No other British Company can even approach this record ;
no big American Company can surpass it and very few
can equal it. We struggled hard to achieve this position.
We mean to keep it and to surpass with every new film
the past successes. We do not offer you a great quantity of
mediocre films / the public is tired of them ; the exhibitor
is losing money on them! The public wants new ideas,
great pictures. It is the only remedy against empty houses.

Look at this list of our forthcoming films. H. G. Wells wrote
for us his first original film story. It will show you THE
HUNDRED YEARS TO COME ! A gigantic problem to solve.
The prophetic genius of H. G. Wells will answer the questions
of every man about tomorrow and after. How the new war
will be fought, how the new world will be built. The answers
to these questions are the themes of this film which will be
produced under the personal supervision of the Author.

Our next film is already in production. LONDON FILM
PRODUCTIONS will present shortly Mr. Douglas Fairbanks
in ' THE PRIVATE LIFE OF DON JUAN/ The story is
written by Lajos Biro; the dialogue and the filmplay by

CONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS

138

Frederick Lonsdale, the outstanding genius of the English
theatre. This film will not only recreate all the glamour of
Spain's most romantic figure but is a witty commentary of this
much discussed sex-appeal and an expose of the world's
greatest lover which will delight you and your wife too ! Mr.
Fairbanks in a greater role than that of ' The Thief of Bagdad '
or ' Robin Hood.'

One of our production units has just returned, after an
arduous five months, from the jungles of Africa. They visited
little known places in the Congo, Tanganyika and Uganda.
They brought back with them hundreds of thousands of feet
of sound and film showing the life of the country. We shall
use this film to make the greatest romance of Empire building
which will be woven round the world famous character by
the late Edgar Wallace, COMMISSIONER SANDERS OF
THE RIVER. Over twenty thousand natives are used in these
scenes one of which shows the war between the Acharis and
the Akasavi tribes. The film story is by Lajos Biro and
Arlhur Wimperis with dialogue by Jeffrey Dell, author
of 'Payment Deferred.' It is directed by Zolian Korda.

We are preparing two films for the oustanding genius of the
English stage and of the world screen — Charles Laughton.
One of these two films will be written by Frederick Lonsdale.
The other by Lajos Biro and Arlhur Wimperis, the two
writers who created for him ' HENRY VIII.'

Robert Sherwood, the great American Dramatist (author of
'Reunion in Vienna/ co-author of ' Roman Scandals '), will write
'THE MARSHAL' in which Maurice Chevalier will star for
the first time in an English Film. This film will depict the
colourful rise to fame of a soldier in the armies of Napoleon.

We have acquired the rights of Baroness Orczy's world
famous and fascinating creation THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL,

whose adventures have thrilled the world.

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. will shortly star in another London

LONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS

!39

Film Production following his portrayal of Czar Peier III in
1 CATHERINE THE GREAT.'

Another great project of LONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS
will be to show one of the most glorious chapters in English
History in 'THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD' in which
film Charles Laughton will play the young Henry VIII,
Merle Oberon Anne Boleyn, Flora Robson Catherine of
Aragon, Maurice Chevalier Francis I, King of France, and
Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Charles V, Emperor of the Holy
Roman Empire. All these films will be produced or
supervised by ALEXANDER KORDA.

Look again at this list of writers : H. G. WELLS, FREDERICK
LONSDALE, ROBERT SHERWOOD, BARONESS ORCZY,
EDGAR WALLACE, LAJOS BIRO, ARTHUR WIMPERIS,
and JEFFREY DELL.

Look at the list of our players : Mr. DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS,
CHARLES LAUGHTON, DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS, Jr.,
MAURICE CHEVALIER, GEORGE GROSSMITH, CEDRIC
HARDWICK, ROBERT DONAT, ELIZABETH BERGNER,
MERLE OBERON, BENITA HUME, ELSA LANCHESTER,
FLORA ROBSON, LADY TREE, BINNIE BARNES, JOAN
GARDNER, WENDY BARRIE and DIANA NAPIER.

The Production unit which will make the above programme
is the same which made 'THE PRIVATE LIFE OF HENRY
VIII' and 'CATHERINE THE GREAT': Edited by Harold
Young and Stephen Harrison ; Sets designed by Vincent
Korda ; Architect Francis Hallam ; Photography by Georges
Perinal, Osmond Borrodaile and Bernard Browne; Sound
by A. W. Watkins; Directors assisted by Geoffrey Booihby
and Stanley Irving ; Costumes designed by Oliver Messel
and John Armstrong ; Trick photography by Ned Mann ;
Musical Direction by Muir Mathieson ; Casting by G. E. T.
Grossmilh; Still photography by Tunhridge, Ltd. and Harold
Saunders; the Production Manager is D. B. Cunynghame
the Publicity of LONDON FILMS is by John B. Myers.
LONDON FILMS are distributed by 'UNITED ARTISTS/

LONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS

140

Edited by

NORMAN WILSON

Review Editor-

FORSYTH HARDY

London Correspondent

PAUL ROTHA

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CINEMA

QUARTERLY

CONTENTS

THE SPECTATOR. Norman Wilson.

POETRY AND FILM. Hugh MacDiarmid

THE ART OF DISNEY. Mack Schwab

THE SYMPHONIC FILM. John Grierson

WHITHER COLOUR? Eric Elliott

143
146
150
155
161

ETHICS FOR MOVIE. Alberto Cavalcanti and

Stuart Legg . . . . . .166

GERMANY ON THE SCREEN. Rudolf Arnheim 169

MISCELLANY. G. F. Dalton

173

FILMS OF THE QUARTER. Forsyth Hardy,

Paul Rotha 179

FILM SOCIETIES

. 191

THE INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER. Choosing

a Subject. Andrew Buchanan . .194

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Vol. 2. No. 3

SPRING 1934

Modern
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THE SPECTATOR

CLEAR THE DECKS!

For the greater part of its history the cinema has been attacked,
neglected, or unfeignedly despised. The claims of the pioneers
who discerned the potentialities of the film as a medium of expres-
sion were openly scoffed at ; at best they were tolerated with superior
condescension. But to-day, after years of patient propaganda, they
are backed by a growing body of public opinion. We are now
able to talk about " intelligent filmgoers," and to address them,
knowing that they exist in even greater numbers than is generally
realised.

According to C. A. Lejeune, unusually optimistic, these wise folk
can succeed in raising the standard of production by demanding
from exhibitors a better type of film and by staying away from
films they don't want to see. A pious hope! Until popular education
and the general level of civilisation is improved a hundredfold there
will always be sufficient people willing to spend their ninepence
(or their eight-and-six) on films that are no better than the present
measure of specious entertainment. Intelligent filmgoers, numerous
as they are, could have little effect on the box-office if they all
decided never to enter a picture-house again. The trouble at present
is that too many people of the type who might be expected to
appreciate good films stay away from the cinema altogether. St.
John Ervine, it would appear, is more persuasive than Miss Lejeune.

But if discerning patrons cannot prevent bad or indifferent
films from being made, they can encourage and support the pro-
duction of films with higher ideals and with a greater sense of
artistic integrity than the average cinema audience is accustomed to.
This patronage of worth-while films can make all the difference
between financial failure and modest but adequate success. Only
by the prospect of their paying their way can even the most idealistic
producers be encouraged to make such films, and only by the public
exhibition of these films can it be hoped to raise the general level
of appreciation, and so ultimately of production.

But to effect any influence on production, and to exert the
strength of its numbers, this patronage must be organised. An
intensive campaign must be waged against the attitude of the com-
mercial cinema which prefers to ignore intelligence rather than to
cater for it. Before the call to action goes forth, however, it must be
seen that the decks are clear and that the course set is the right one.

143

THE FILM INSTITUTE

The establishment of the British Film Institute adds a new and
much-needed power to the campaign for the development of in-
telligent cinema. The Institute has many tasks to perform — the
dissemination of information and advice, research into the develop-
ment and use of the film, the formation of a national repository of
films, the linking of trade and "cultural and educational interests,"
and the influencing of public opinion — and in order to perform
these tasks thoroughly it asks for, and most definitely requires, the
co-operation of specialist bodies already engaged in the various
fields of cinema, educational, social, and cultural activity.

In spite of an unsatisfactory constitution which places control
in the hands of a governing body on which there is no public repre-
sentation, the Institute is capable of accomplishing an immense
amount of good. In so far as it can achieve results, opposition to its
efforts on the part of other organisations would be futile and nig-
gardly. But as a national organisation, approved by the Govern-
ment and spending public funds, the Institute must expect — and
receive — criticism as well as help. It exists not for the convenience
of its members, but for the benefit of the public — an important
consideration which receives emphasis by the publication of "The
Cinema and the Public," in which Walter Ashley presents "a
critical analysis of the origin, constitution and control of the ' British
Film Institute."'

THE ASHLEY ATTACK

Ashley's criticism takes the form of a letter to the President of
the Privy Council, whom he wished to influence against recognising
the Institute's claim for a grant from the Cinematograph Fund.
With a mass of carefully documented evidence it seeks to prove that
the Institute is largely under the control of the film trade, and that
it is powerless to exert any effective influence over the mass of enter-
tainment films. In his zeal to prove his case, however, Ashley has
interpreted certain events to suit his argument. There is no evidence,
for instance, that "Scotland is wisely preparing to cut itself off"
from the operations of the B.F.I. — the actual position being, that
provided Scotland can retain its independence to deal with its own
problems (which are substantially different from those of England)
it is both willing and anxious to co-operate with the Institute.

The main object in Ashley's "exposure" was frustrated by the
fact that publication was delayed until too late to have any effect
on the allocation of the Privy Council grant. What will be its
influence on public opinion depends on the importance readers
place on the facts removed from their opinionative context.

144

THE FILM SOCIETIES

In an introduction to a recently published book entitled "For
Filmgoers Only," R. S. Lambert, one of the Governors of the
British Film Institute, suggests that the film society movement,
"which draws its strength from a certain dispair," may be in danger
of developing "a 'coterie' sense expressing itself in an excessive
admiration for one particular kind of film, as, for instance, a few
years ago, the Russian film." This is both misleading and un-
generous, as well as impolitic on the part of one representing a body
requiring all the organised support it can get. Does Mr. Lambert's
interest in cinema not go far enough back for him to remember that
it was the Russian film more than anything else which first aroused
general interest in the new art of the film? In any case, the spread
of the film society movement did not come until the first wave of
enthusiasm for the Russian film had passed, and I challenge Mr.
Lambert to discover in the programmes of the film societies published
in Cinema Quarterly any evidence of coterie tendencies.

Instead of belittling the achievement of the film societies, many
of whom have been doing for years work which the Institute is
only now attempting, it might have been expected that some form
of co-operation would have been sought. True, societies have been
invited to become "branches" of the Institute — at the cost of for-
feiting their independence and working under conditions of financial
and administrative control which would preclude their proper
functioning. Meanwhile, though cinema as a whole would benefit
from the establishment of an efficient central organisation and a
reliable information bureau, the Institute is proceeding to form
branches up and down the country. This it is perfectly justified in
doing, and some of its branches are already doing excellent work in
areas where no organisation was already in existence. But it is an
exaggeration to claim that they are accomplishing more than the
principal film societies are doing in their own sphere.

The independent film societies, unhampered by any restrictive
constitution or the limits of orthodoxy, must continue their separate
existence as the advance-guard of the cinema — though of course
this does not imply opposition to the Institute, whose aims and
projects most societies, if asked, would be pleased to assist wherever
possible. When new bodies come to be formed in districts as yet
unorganised they will have to consider whether their ideals can
best be served by remaining independent or under the aegis of
centralised control.

Norman Wilson.

145

A POET LOOKS AT THE CINEMA

POETRY AND FILM

HUGH MacDIARMID

Some of the remarks made in the editorials in the last issue of Cinema
Quarterly, under the captions "Literature and the Film" and "Words
and Music," give me a convenient jumping-ofF place for this short
article — particularly these sentences: "For some time the virtue of
the spoken word has been in doubt. The hundred-per-cent. talkie is
no more, and even Hollywood is beginning to use words selectively
and even impressionistically, instead of in the name of realism," and
"the music [for films] must be specially composed." Poetry is a
much more complex and concentrated form of expression than
prose — the characteristic of all great poetry is an economy in pre-
senting experience which keeps us wondering that so much can be
said in so few words. It may be defined as the art of maximum
statement in minimum space. The consequence of this is its un-
rivalled quality of memorableness — and the desirability, even the need,
of associating this quality with the cinema by every possible means
needs no stressing. But the difference between poetry and mere verse
(which are so generally confused) is that the latter simply decorates
the unelucidated fact with fancy while the former is endowed with
the imagination which penetrates to the reality in the fact. Realism,
in the sense used in the sentence quoted above, is mere actualism —
the acceptance of the fact ; the cinema has not gone far beyond that
yet and then only in superadding fancy; the future of the cinema
depends on its power to use imagination. I say the future of the
cinema advisedly, instead of merely its artistic future ; its commercial
future also depends upon that in the last resort. The hundred-per-
cent, use of the spoken word (and a very great deal less than a
hundred per cent.) in conjunction with actualist photography is a
false convention ; the two things are discordant from the beginning —
because people do not talk that way, or not much, and when they do
they are not being true to themselves but obeying a convention.
Instead of consisting of grammatical sentences and a logical pro-
gression, people's intercourse is a thing of verbal fragments and
expressive sounds, needing no continuity of utterance because it is
supplemented by all manner of gestures, looks, understandings, and
what not. The importance of this from the cinema standpoint is that
the cinema already has all that essential supplemental substance of

146

expression as printed literature has not; to follow the latter, therefore,
in using the unlifelike verbal continuity which the disabilities of the
latter necessitate is trebly disadvantageous, because it is at once
unlifelike, unnecessary, and repetitive in an inferior medium to what
the film itself is expressing. It is also unmodern — in other words,
anachronistic to the art of the cinema — since much of the experi-
mentation in modern literature has been due to a realisation of this
disability and to efforts to cut out the dead wood of expression.
In so far as the cinema has associated itself with verbal expression it
has been with forms of it not contemporaneous with itself. There is
another point: by eschewing words altogether the cinema would
remain unlifelike in another way by having the gestures, looks, and so
on dissociated from the words and sounds which actually accompany
them, and upon which, in real life, they are as dependent as the
disjointed words and sounds are upon them. In this common plight
of literature and the cinema, then, it seems to me that they are
indispensable to each other, and in the long run this may be dis-
cerned as the main (if not the only) significance of the emergence
of the cinema at this juncture in the history of human expression
and communication. The relation, or possible relation, of literature
to the cinema is seen to be, from this standpoint, precisely the
opposite of that of broadcasting to literature.

As if it had anticipated the advantages of the cinema accruing to
it, literature, as I have said, has long been experimenting intensively
along the lines necessary to enable it to seize that great opportunity.
Much modernist literature from Tolstoy onwards depends upon a
realisation of the revelation of personalities less in speech than in
sound (a fact which provides an adequate commentary on the efforts
of the B.B.C. to standardise pronunciation!) and recent Russian
literature, for example, has concentrated to a great extent on the
exploitation of skaz (or inter-sense) and zaumny (or local and personal
intonations of all kinds). The general preoccupation with the
"stream of consciousness" — with, not the banal conventionalities
people utter, most of which they use less to express themselves than
to disguise what they are really thinking, but with what lies behind
these — is another great pointer in the same direction. It is absurd
that a magnificent instrument like the cinema should be content, in
the period of tremendous advances in psychological knowledge with
which it synchronises, and to which the modern literature in question
is so intimately related, to depend on stock stage and penny novelette
conceptions of human nature of the most otiose kind. A great deal
of work in modernist poetry consists in the exploitation of pure
sound, and, alike from the psychological and purely aesthetic sides,
it is with the poets that the verbal future of the cinema lies, since
prose remains the language of logical discourse and most of its

147

1

context is redundant to the film, whereas poetry has not only
maximum economy, supreme revelatory power, and capacities, equal
to its unrivalled power of penetrating reality, for soaring away from
it altogether but of associating itself with music. I agree with
Hitchcock that the music must be specially composed; so must the
poetry. It will be the cheapest possible addition to film-making,
probably. Most poets would jump at the opportunity for next to
nothing.

Probably no contemporary writer has had a more widespread
and profound influence, both as a poet and a critic, on his con-
temporaries than T. S. Eliot, and it is interesting to find him saying,
in his latest book:

" After admitting the possible existence of minor ' difficult ' poets whose
public must always be small, I believe that the poet naturally prefers to
write for as large and miscellaneous an audience as possible, and that it is
the half-educated and ill-educated, rather than the uneducated, who stand
in his way : I myself should like an audience which could neither read nor
write. The most useful poetry, socially, would be one which could cut
across all the present stratifications of public taste — stratifications which are
perhaps a sign of social disintegration."

He draws attention in a footnote to some helpful remarks on the
subject of " education" from this angle in D. H. Lawrence's " Fantasia
of the Unconscious," and it is undoubtedly along the lines of over-
coming this barrier and bringing the artist into direct contact with
the vast public without the interposition of a parasitical and mis-
leading "interpreting class" that the cinema can render a stupendous
social, cultural, and creative service. Eliot is supposed to be a high-
brow of the highbrows. He is. But I am certain that much of his
work would be immensely popular if it could be put over directly
to the big public. My own work has similarly been criticised as
extremely difficult and limited in its appeal. But whenever I have
had an opportunity of reading any of it to a general audience I have
found it popular, and my "synthetic Scots" at its most synthetic
"goes over" all right, because it is pure onomatopoeia — a universal
speech; Scots in quality. Another case in point is James Joyce, who
has similarly been condemned as hopelessly highbrow and quite
unreadable. Those who have heard the gramophone record of his
reading of "Anna Li via Plurabelle" know how absurd these charges
are. It becomes at once intelligible to everybody and a most enchant-
ing experience. How magnificently it would go with a film! Inci-
dentally, it may be pointed out that Joyce's multi-linguistic medium
is definitely along the right lines; that extraordinary amalgam in
which elements of over fifteen languages have already been " spotted "
becomes simultaneously — when spoken, not read — a universal speech,
and all the more intensely Irish.

148

It is easy to see that while these elements in modernist literature
are along lines appropriate to cinema use, there are other elements
which the cinema must progressively eschew. This is what led
H. A. Potamkin, discussing " Pabst and the Social Film," to say
the film-producer " no longer dallies with ' the woman who has been
abundantly charged with sex-consciousness'; she is only a figure of
speech. Pandora's Box is inconclusive, not because 'one should not
make films of literature' — that is a sophistry — nor unsatisfying
because Wedekind cannot be cinematised. It is inconclusive and
unsatisfying because the literary source is a network of negotiations,
and not the experience of people; and the film, in consequence,
figures of speech stalking as men and women." But Potamkin went
on to show what can be done when he said of Kameradschaft :

" Sound has allowed Pabst an aid in the double-speech, French 'and
German, very specific values, and a lingering quality — e.g. l Georges ! ' called
by the old man — that sensitises the appeal of pathos. The French girl who
has refused a dance to the German the night before, beholding the rescuing-
party, murmurs: 'Les Allemands! C' 'est pas possible ! " Here is a speech within
the theme, speech that is correlative to the play of the people at the mine-
gate. The inflection is contained within a subdued range, allowed to break
through at strategic points. Its essence is documentary, its contact revelatory,
and along the line of its construction Pabst might have extended his message
to its fullness, thereby forestalling the criticism that the film lacks warmth.
But for this extension was needed the consummation of Pabst's own ethical
tendency."

Precisely! That is, in other words, the problem of artistic
integrity, and the whole question of the cinema realising its vast
potentialities depends upon that. My purpose here has been to stress
only a few special points in relation to it, and the words " correlative,"
"strategic points," and "revelatory" in the above quotation bring
me back to the fact that the poetry must be specially composed —
and that the poetry, the music, and the film must be complementary
to each other, and neither repetitive of, and therefore redundant to,
each other, nor discrete in the way that cinema music, and, in a
different field, the settings of many songs are being applied to
purposes for which they were never intended, and receiving a slack
conventional acceptance from the confused receptivity of the
audience. It may be worth mentioning in closing that a little
reflection on the part of those most vitally concerned with the artistic
integrity and popular appeal of the cinema upon the history of
human culture generally, and the theatre in particular, will show
that popular entertainments always reached the highest levels of
artistic integrity and simultaneously had the greatest hold on the
public when they were most closely associated with poetry.

149

THE COMMUNALISTIC

ART OF WALT DISNEY

MACK W. SCHWAB

Walt Disney has been praised for a variety of contributions to
creative cinema, but one of the most interesting aspects of Disney
and his creations has been almost completely ignored and neglected.
And that is the uniquely communalistic method Disney has developed
for the creation and production of his cartoons since the birth of
Mickey Mouse five years ago. A hundred or more creative workers
are responsible in some degree for each cartoon, and yet the result
always typifies the genius of one artist, Walt Disney. It is doubtful
whether (even in Soviet Russia, where group effort is paramount)
there is any form of artistic activity comparable to that in the
Disney studio, in which such heterogeneity of effort achieves so
successfully homogeneity in its accomplishment.

In describing the manner in which the cartoons are developed,
there is a danger of over-formalising a casual method of work.
Compared to the routine and departmental order in the major
studios, the atmosphere of the Disney studio is Arcadian in its
informality. Ideally planned for the fantastic creative activity
essential to cartoon production, the Disney studio allows its artists
complete freedom to be as creative in as many different ways as they
are capable. As specific credit is absent in Disney cartoons, there is
no jealousy to mar diverse and combined effort, as is often the case
in the major studios. It is communalistic work, under the controlling
and inspirational figure of Walt Disney himself, whose sensitive and
imaginative spirit permeates all the productive work in the studio.
Deservedly, he receives all the responsibility for the success of the
cartoons, while the other artists work in co-operative anonymity.
In spite of the unconstrained atmosphere, however, the work is by
no means chaotic. Inasmuch as twenty-six cartoons must be pro-
duced each year (the present booking obligation), a certain definite
systematic procedure is compulsory.

A cartoon, from its origin as a rather vague story idea to its final
photographing on film, involves about four months of work (as the
production-schedule indicates the necessity of an average of one
completed cartoon every two weeks, different cartoons are in various
stages of development simultaneously) . About half of the time con-
sumed for the completion of a cartoon is occupied in preparing a
detailed scenario. For this task there is a story department composed

150

From ''Man of Aran/' directed by Robert Flaherty,
which depicts the arduous life of the inhabitants of
the Aran Islands, off the West Coast of Ireland.
A Gainsborough Picture.

rrn^

ft i ;

TOP.

A Disney animator at work.

CENTRE.

Original sketch used to illus-
trate a Mickey Mouse version
of Gulliver's Travels.

BOTTOM.

Walt Disney and some mem-
bers of the studio in an
informal conference.

of ten or so. They think up new ideas, re-work old tales (Disney's
re-creations from old legends — Jaok the Giant Killer, Little Red
Riding Hood, Gulliver's Travels, etc. — is reminiscent of the practice
of the Greek dramatists and Shakespeare), and develop stories
already accepted. Disney's greatest influence is felt in this depart-
ment. It is the quality of the story and the plot detail which is one
of the most distinguishing features of the Disney cartoon. Many
animators have left the Disney studio for other cartoon work, and
yet their artistic effort, clever and imaginative as it may be, is usually
lost in second-rate material. Disney's suggestions for stories and gag
incidents in the stories are those most often accepted. But he is in
no way dictatorial. It is the studio as a group which decides on the
stories, and when Disney has a story which the other members of
the studio disfavour, it is either shelved or discarded. For instance,
Three Little Pigs was submitted by Disney for a year before the studio
finally approved of it.

When a story is accepted, Disney and the story department
scrutinise its possibilities, and then one of its members writes it up
in a page synopsis. This synopsis is circulated to about ninety
members of the studio, animators, gag men, musical composers, etc.,
who, incited by the story possibilities, during two weeks create gags,
little actions, and other embellishments for the plot. At a luncheon
conference lasting three hours or more, the pile of suggestions
(mostly quick drawings on paper accompanied by written annota-
tions) are presented, criticised, and discussed by Disney, some
members of the story department, the director who is assigned to
the cartoon, the layout man (he is the co-ordinating artist, a sort of
continuity animator who works out the detailed action which the
forty or more animators will follow) , the musical director, and several
animators. The conference is exciting, animated, and often quite
humorous. Hurried sketches are created and passed round. A
composer rattles off a theme while another person rhythmically enacts
an animal action. When Disney acts out a Mickey Mouse sequence
he seems to be the very mouse he has created.

Next, a story-writer completes a detailed scenario, which is
illustrated by about fifty sketches of the main incidents in the action.
The scenario is then handed over to the director, who, with the aid
of Disney, the musical director, and the layout man, forms a detailed
time-sheet for every minute movement. This time-sheet is developed
on a principle of beats in synchronisation with the musical score,
which has been composed coincidently with the working out of the
scenario. Thus each action has been synchronised with the music
before either the music is recorded or the action animated. This
simultaneous creation of music and action is one of Disney's significant
contributions to the progress of the animated cartoon. When the

*53

time-sheet is completed, the director portions out sections of the
action to the forty or more animators.

Then the animation begins. As each animator can do at the most
in one day a number of drawings equal to five feet of film, it takes
about a month for the animation alone. The animation is divided
in various ways. The backgrounds are created by regular artists,
and only the moving figures are animated. As some of the animators
are more proficient for certain incidents and characters in the action
(for example, there is one animator who is particularly adept in
drawing dancing figures, another in depicting ferocious villains) they
are so assigned. It is interesting that Disney himself no longer does
any animation, and rarely submits a drawing. The animators,
besides being imaginative artists, must be able to vivify characters
and their movements. In order to give life to their characters, they
resort to all sorts of antics, watch their mirrored reflections as they go
through the movements of their subject, watch other people go through
motions, and, when the subjects are animals (as they most often are),
in order to give them their proper zoological characteristics as well
as human attributes, they sometimes resort to observing animals
perform in the zoo and on the screen. After a section is sketchily
animated, it is photographed and observed by Disney, the director,
and the animator as to its convincingness. If it is satisfactory, then
girls copy the drawings on celluloid with black paint, or if it is a
coloured cartoon in colour. Disney demands a definite quality in
his cartoons, and if certain scenes do not seem satisfactory when
screened, they must be re-done. Sometimes a whole cartoon is shelved
because Disney or some of the other members in the studio do not
feel it worthy of the studio. When every sequence is satisfactory, and
painted on celluloid, it is filmed. The snooting takes a hundred
hours or more, by means of a complexly rigged stop motion
camera. The final endorsement, as in the major studios, is given the
cartoon at a preview at one of the neighbourhood motion-picture
theatres. Occasionally, if a sequence fails to get a reaction from the
audience it is changed ; but, on account of the carefully worked out
and synchronised scenario, there is rarely much changed after the
final filming of the cartoon.

After four months, or thereabout, of co-operative labour the
cartoon is ready for its brief seven minutes on the screen.

Apart from the creation of the cartoon, there is another com-

munalistic factor in the Disney studio, and that is the course in

animated art. Any member of the studio may take the course, which

usually requires about six months of study.

The author is indebted for much of the material in this article to Dr. Morkovin, an
advisor in the story department at the Disney Studio and professor of cinematography at the
University of Southern California, where he has recently organized the first competent
exhibition of the making of a Disney cartoon.

1 54

DOCUMENTARY (3)

THE SYMPHONIC FILM

JOHN GRIERSON

The symphonic form is concerned with the orchestration of move-
ment. It sees the screen in terms of flow and does not permit the
flow to be broken. Episodes and events if they are included in the
action are integrated in the flow. The symphonic form also tends
to organise the flow in terms of different movements, e.g. movement
for dawn, movement for men coming to work, movement for fac-
tories in full swing, etc., etc. This is a first distinction.

See the symphonic form as equivalent to the poetic form of, say,
Carl Sandburg in "Skyscraper," "Chicago," "The Windy City"
and "Slabs of the Sunburnt West." The object is presented as an
integration of many activities. It lives by the many human associations
and by the moods of the various action sequences which surround it.
Sandburg says so with variations of tempo in his description, varia-
tions of the mood in which each descriptive facet is presented. We
do not ask personal stories of such poetry, for its picture is complete
and satisfactory. We need not ask it of documentary. This is a
second distinction regarding symphonic form.

These distinctions granted, it is possible for the symphonic form
to vary considerably. Basil Wright, for example, is almost exclu-
sively interested in movement, and will build up movement in a
fury of design and nuances of design; and for those whose eye is
sufficiently trained and sufficiently fine, will convey emotion in a
thousand variations on a theme so simple as the portage of bananas
(Cargo from Jamaica). Some have attempted to relate this movement
to the pyrotechnics of pure form, but there never was any such
animal, (i) The quality of Wright's sense of movement and of his
patterns are distinctively his own and recognisably delicate. As
with good painters, there is character in his line and attitude in his
composition. (2) There is an overtone in his work which — sometimes
after seeming monotony — makes his description uniquely memorable.
(3) His patterns invariably weave — not seeming to do so — a positive
attitude to the material, which may conceivably relate to (2). The
patterns of Cargo were more scathing comment on labour at 2d. a
hundred bunches (or whatever it is) than mere sociological stricture.
His movements — (a) easily down; (b) horizontal; (c) arduously 450
up; (d) down again — conceal, or perhaps construct, a comment.

155

Flaherty once maintained that the east-west contour of Canada was
itself a drama. It was precisely a sequence of down, horizontal, 450
up, and down again.

I use Basil Wright as an example of 'movement in itself' —
though movement is never in itself — principally to distinguish those
others who add either tension elements or poetic elements or
atmospheric elements. I have held myself in the past an exponent
of the tension category with certain pretention to the others. Here
is a simple example of tension from Granton Trawler. The trawler is
working its gear in a storm. The tension elements are built up with
emphasis on the drag of the water, the heavy lurching of the ship,,
the fevered flashing of birds, the fevered flashing of faces between
waves lurches and spray. The trawl is hauled aboard with strain
of men and tackle and water. It is opened in a release which com-
prises equally the release of men, birds and fish. There is no pause
in the flow of movement, but something of an effort as between two
opposing forces, has been recorded. In a more ambitious and
deeper description the tension might have included elements more
intimately and more heavily descriptive of the clanging weight of
the tackle, the strain on the ship, the operation of the gear under
water and along the ground, the scuttering myriads of birds laying
off in the gale. The fine fury of ship and heavy weather could have
been brought through to touch the vitals of the men and the ship.
In the hauling, the simple fact of a wave breaking over the men,
subsiding and leaving them hanging on as though nothing had
happened, would have brought the sequence to an appropriate peak.
The release could have attached to itself images of, say, birds wheeling
high, taking off from the ship, and of contemplative, i.e. more intimate,
reaction on the faces of the men. The drama would have gone
deeper by the greater insight into the energies and reactions in-
volved.

Carry this analysis into a consideration of the first part of Deserter,
which piles up from a sequence of deadly quiet to the strain and
fury — and aftermath — of the strike, or of the strike sequence itself,
which piles up from deadly quiet to the strain and fury — and after-
math— of the police attack, and you have indication of how the
symphonic shape, still faithful to its own peculiar methods, comes
to grip with dramatic issue.

The poetic approach is best represented by Romance Sentimentale
and the last sequence of Ekstase. Here there is description without
tension, but the moving description is lit up by attendant images.
In Ekstase the notion of life renewed is conveyed by a rhythmic
sequence of labour, but there are also essential images of a woman
and child, a young man standing high over the scene, skyscapes and
water. The description of the various moods of Romance Sentimentale

156

From Wilfried Basse's new film " So lebt ein Volk " (So lives a
Nation). Production: Basse Film, Berlin-Dahlem.

From " L'Atalante," directed by Jean Vigo from the scenario by Jean Guinee,
featuring Dita Parlo and Michel Simon. Montage by Louis Chavance.

is conveyed entirely by images : in one sequence of domestic interior,
in another sequence of misty morning, placid water and dim sun-
light. The creation of mood, an essential in the symphonic form,
may be done in terms of tempo alone, but is better done if poetic
images colour it. In a description of night at sea, there are elements
enough aboard a ship to build up a quiet and effective rhythm, but
a deeper effect might come by reference to what is happening under
water or by reference to the strange spectacle of the birds which,
sometimes in ghostly flocks, move silently in and out of the ship's
lights.

A recent sequence done by Rotha for his new film indicates the
distinction between the three different treatments. He describes the
loading of a steel furnace and builds a superb rhythm into the
shovelling movements of the men. By creating behind them a sense
of fire, by playing on the momentary shrinking from fire which
comes into these shovelling movements, he would have brought in
the elements of tension. He might have proceeded from this to an
almost terrifying picture of what steel work involves. On the other
hand, by overlaying the rhythm with, say, such posturing or con-
templative symbolic figures, as- Eisenstein brought into his Thunder
Over Mexico material, he would have added the elements of poetic
image. The distinction is between (a) a musical or non-literary
method; (b) a dramatic method with clashing forces; and (c) a
poetic, contemplative, and altogether literary method. These three
methods may all appear in one film, but their proportion depends
naturally on the character of the director — and his private hopes of
salvation.

I do not suggest that one form is higher than the other. There
are pleasures peculiar to the exercise of movement which in a sense
are tougher — more classical — than the pleasures of poetic descrip-
tion, however attractive and howrever blessed by tradition these
may be. The introduction of tension gives accent to a film, but only
too easily gives popular appeal because of its primitive engagement
with physical issues and struggles and fights. People like a fight,
even when it is only a symphonic one, but it is not clear that a war
with the elements is a braver subject than the opening of a flower
or, for that matter, the opening of a cable. It refers us back to
hunting instincts and fighting instincts, but these plainly do not
represent the more civilised fields of appreciation.

It is commonly believed that moral grandeur in art can only be
achieved, Greek or Shakespearian fashion, after a general laying
out of the protagonists, and that no head is unbowed which is not
bloody. This notion is a philosophic vulgarity. Of recent years it
has been given the further blessing of Kant in his distinction be-
tween the aesthetic of pattern and the aesthetic of achievement, and

J59

beauty has been considered somewhat inferior to the sublime. The
Kantian confusion comes from the fact that he personally had an
active moral sense, but no active aesthetic one. He would not other-
wise have drawn the distinction. So far as common taste is con-
cerned, one has to see that we do not mix up the fulfilment of primi-
tive desires and the vain dignities which attach to that fulfilment,
with the dignities which attach to man as an imaginative being.
The dramatic application of the symphonic form is not, ipso facto,
the deepest or most important. A future consideration of forms
neither dramatic nor symphonic, but dialectic, will reveal this more
plainly.

Kinematograph Year Book, i 934. (London: Odhams. ios.)
An essential book of reference for all connected with the cinema.
The year's events, films registered, who's who, and a classified
directory are included, along with other useful information.

"The Cinema" Buyers' Guide. (London: Cinema Press. 155-.)
Contains brief reviews of the year's films with details of production
and cast. A valuable handbook for students and secretaries.

For Filmgoers Only. (London: Faber. 2s. 6d.) Lectures
delivered to the London Y.W.C.A. Central Club. Paul Rotha on
the development of the cinema ; Andrew Buchanan on propaganda ;
Mary Field on educational films; R. S. Lambert on "Why we get
the films we do" ; C. A. Lejeune on what to look for in films. A
useful guide for those who have just "discovered" cinema.

The Cinema and the Public. (London: Nicholson and Watson.
is.) An 'exposure" of the British Film Institute. Contains both
opinions and facts, which the discerning reader may separate to his
own satisfaction.

Express to Hollywood. By Victor McLagen. (London:
Jarrold. 12s. 6rf.) The life-story of a star. A feast for fans and an
interesting sidelight on the inside of the commercial movie world.

Picture People. By Olga Rosmanith. (London: Long. ys. 6d.)
A novelette of Hollywood life in all its absurdities. May help to
disillusion star worshippers.

The Stranger's Return. By Phil Stong. (London: Barker.
js. 6d.) Here we find in words the atmosphere and characters of
the American Middle West which Vidor re-created in his film.
Lionel Barrymore's Grandpa Storr did justice to Stong's powers of
characterisation. Two novels written, two novels filmed: perhaps
Stong will cast his next in film form and not wait for adaptation.

160

WHITHER COLOUR?

ERIC ELLIOTT

There is evidence by this time of an apathy, if not an antipathy,
towards the coloured film. The trial began with subjects in Edison's
Kinetoscope, 1891, before moving pictures were projected. With
the era of the Screen, an indulgence in cosmetics naturally continued;
and conspicuous in 1904 was a painted version of Melies' Trip to the
Sun. Short or long, educational or dramatic, such chromoscopic
imitations appeared in the programmes of all succeeding years.

You may reason that artificial colours are not a fair test. I reason
that all the other processes are artificial too. 'Natural colours" is a
convenient misnomer; autocolours would be a better term. When
results are compared the advantage often lies with that reproduction
we call artificial. At least the stencilled film continues to be counte-
nanced by patrons as much as its rival.

The trials of the natural-colour processes need to be more dis-
criminately reviewed. Wanting space, I must take notice of nothing
until the introduction of Technicolour in 1920. From then onward
this system shared the scenes — hence also the circulation and publicity
— of most of America's world-boosted super films, apart from its
all-coloured investments, remembering especially the prestige of
Fairbanks' The Black Pirate. Then Al Jolson, singing about a
rainbow round his shoulders, started the talkie boom that was to
incur a new load of rainbows for all our shoulders in the form of
talkie coloured attachments.

Why, then, do we still have films in black-and-white? Practic-
ability? That question fails, in face of practice. It may be added
that, twenty years back, topical reels were recorded and exhibited
in auto-colours without departure from the normal time-table. The
question of expensiveness likewise fails. First parasitically fostering
itself for twelve years or so, then subsidised by the talkie gold mine,
colour cinematography has enjoyed an economic advantage. Even
that old alibi about "awaiting the supervision of an artist' holds
good no longer; and never had it much to do with the question of
colour's popularity.

So the mystery grows and grows. Neither Hollywood nor Critical
Opinion appears competent to clear it up, save to look around for
their old friend " the technical solution " to help them out. This, too,
when Critical Opinion, even more than those commercially con-
cerned, has assured us that natural-colour photoplavs have been

161

"wondrous," " exquisite," "like old masters," "like Nature herself."
Go back to The Black Pirate (1926); to Friese-Greene (1924); to The
Glorious Adventure (Prizma, 1922); to Gaumont's luxurious three-
colour Chronochrome (19 13); to Kinemacolour (191 1). Read up
the testimonials. If Critical Opinion can go into raptures about
photochromy on the screen, much readier should the indiscriminate
fans be to extol it.

Besides, it is human nature to tolerate imperfections in everything,
until something better is put before us. So, if colour reproduction
were a vital condition in the moving picture, mechanical crudities
could not seriously stand in its way. After all, Nature is not very
exacting, apart from the particularity of human complexions. Im-
possible to hit upon a green, a brown, or a yellow that does not
represent some true appearance of a leaf. Then nearly everything
the popular eye demands from colour, all its artificialness, all its
extravagance — the sensational and the sentimental — can be supplied
by quite a clumsy process. A venture like Kinemacolour, by its
very evidence of practicability, profitableness and merit, is evidence
of limitations not concerned with those factors. To-day also a market
could be exploited through the enormous interest and attraction in
coloured subjects. But — there is enormous interest and attraction
in the movie dramas too. The markets must either be separated
or be reconciled.

Colour is not missing in the movies. The real peculiarity is that
our intelligence demurs at the presence of colour in a life-like
representation, but never at the absence of it. The achievement of
black-and-white drawings, photographs, and moving pictures ought
to be regarded as a positive achievement. The pure photograph
exerts an emotional influence so moving and so instinctive as to be
unreached by any other form of picture. It registers some indefinable
quality of the subject. It evokes a vivid recognition. More: from the
box-office point of view, it is human.

To colour it is to transform it into the dead product of the hand.
If it is a portrait of a face intimately known — and a film star's face is
intimately known — individuality and personality disappear. Vulgar
people take a naive pride in a coloured enlargement of someone
dear to them; but for emotional purposes they are careful to keep a
copy in black-and-white.

In so far as this refractoriness of colour disturbs the illusion of
realness, it nullifies what is vital in our medium. This is, in a way,
the most important part of the problem, but since it leads into a
theme far out of our present path, I must be content to assume it is
agreed upon, this need of some peculiar realness in the Image Play
that is active in prompting a mental reciprocation of real experience.

Why colours seem unreal may be less a psychological than a

162

visual problem. Not so much a pigmentary problem, either, because
any colour reproduction — even paintings, even the best printing
processes — have something false about them; and even an actual
spectacle can be made to appear artificial in its hues.

Colour seems to be an entity in itself. It trespasses on the field
of vision. It provides an abstract spectacle imposed over the spectacle
concrete. Monochrome allows the eye to come closer, as it were, to
concentrate more, to absorb more, to digest more. As infra-red
rays, X-rays, and all the other rays afford our vision a means of
deeper penetration, so black-and-white photography pierces a fog of
light sensations.

The painter gets at the nude in defiance of prude. The sculptor,
I contend, goes one better by stripping off the colour as well as the
clothes. Colour brings visual indigestion.

These effects add to the troubles of pictorial composition. The
eye can have no softer bearing than the tones of light and shade.
Colour seeks rather to imprison the vision; and when there are
casual, accidental colourings the field is strewn with obstacles, until
the eye finally lands in a bunker. Painters are satisfied that they
have turned these disadvantages to their own advantage. Lowbrows,
failing such satisfaction, prefer paintings to be over-coloured, so
that at least they can extract the sensation of colour as colour.

Circumstances of the cinema — which I shall not apologise for —
inevitably widen the argument. A canvas, usually, is comfortably
within one's field of vision, and the light around you relieves the sight.
The cinema screen necessarily fills the whole field of vision and
annihilates consciousness of all other existence. This stresses an
unnatural condensation of colour, just as there is an unnatural con-
densation of sound within the talkie frame. Free of colour, the
black-and-white shadows on the screen join swifter the shadows of
the hall. We can make a colour amalgam around the picture, but
experience shows that the mind makes a much better settlement if
left confronted with the ultimatum of one uncompromising boundary
of sight.

Colour enthusiasts refer gleefully to the "pull " of gorgeous posters
and magazine covers. When, however, you consider that these
draw the eye to themselves amid a world of competing lights and
forms, you get an idea of the force we are playing with in the cinema
confines. Signal-lights also ought to warn us in more senses than one.

The chromotechnics of the screen cast me into a dungeon, with
darkness and suffocation. Lost is the very essence of cinema, its space,
and freedom, and light. Nothing like it on earth; although in the
weird world underseas Technicolour seems singularly apt. Ignore
the limitations of colour photography. Remember that in certain
circumstances of vision, colours will always tend to denaturalise

163

themselves. Above all, daylight in real existence, apart from its local
decompositions into hue, prevails imponderously around every visible
thing.

Screw up your eyes at a stage scene, squeeze out all the light you
can spare. The result can be uncannily like a Technicoloured interior,
even to the queer complexions. If you try the same trick on a
Technicolour picture, the effect is an improvement ! Colours become
lighter and more distinguished, the flesh tints especially appearing
more life-like.

Artificially coloured films are superior in their preservation of
light. There is not that effect of depression, not to say oppression, to
be found in natural colour photography. Moreover, the simpleness
of the tints produces at least an elementary harmony, and often a
finer delicacy. Our autocoloured reproductions should be severely
diluted, by fair means or foul.

As there are physical, so there are mental conditions in actual
life to modify the impertinence as well as the exuberance of colour.
The want of such protection makes itself evident in a coloured
reproduction of any kind. What should be latent, what is irrelevant,
is all forced without mercy into one's perception. A man can go a
life-time without learning the true colours of a friend ( symbolic alists,
please note). He can fall in love with a girl with only the haziest
notion whether her eyes are blue or grey. In a picture, these colours
merely advertise themselves as abstract patterns. Often it is asserted
that we cannot dream in colour — a fallacy, mind you, but not without
a foundation of truth.

To remark further the cinema's distinctions. Animated, the
subject moves as well as the eye, and two motions have to correspond.
An idiot wearing a scarlet scarf may walk from the foreground and
far into the distance, and drag the helpless eye in chains behind him.
Colours of stationary subjects (composing the bulk of the scene)
mislead in another manner. They tend to make everything inert.
Even perched on a moving object, colour appears to lack the agility
of form. At times the forms seem to be struggling to move themselves
beneath the weight of the colours. The dragging tendency is
aggravated, I consider, by the known inclination of colours to jump
into discrepant focal planes.

Nature demonstrates everywhere that colour is static in suggestion.
Each creature loses an apparent ability of motion as it increases its
colours. A peacock could never look swift. Such inaptitude is,
indeed, utilised ecologically.* If this is so, it causes a serious

* With certain natural colour processes still more fatigue might be supposed to result
from the separation of the ccmpJcmeritaiy images into successive frames. On the other
hand it is a fact, I believe, that with colcur the eye allcws mere latitude in a synthesis of
animation. Incidentally this may point to a peisistency in the colour sensation that is
objectionable in other ways.

164

retardation, not only in locomotion but in the finer mobility of
facial expression. Ultimately, there is a similar influence on the
tempo.

Brief, too, our changing scenes; and varying their scales. In the
long run the all-coloured film can be more monotonous than the
monotone film. It reveals yet more that real life does not permit an
observation of colours commensurate with that lavished on us by
the photochromatic drama. Hundreds upon hundreds of coloured
records are thrown at us without remission,' and the eye has no source
of escape. No matter how different the subjects, the hues tend to
become a stream of abstract, satiating sensations. It is like music
trying to dispense with silence.

Undoubtedly there are technical improvements to anticipate,
especially if we bear in mind that even objections against elaborate-
ness of equipment and operation in the theatre are hardly valid in
face of the talkie manoeuvre. Observe, though, that colour has not
yet provided in the box-office that irresistible lever that sound
provided to make such an upheaval possible.

And that, first and finally, is what I want to impress. Claude
Friese-Greene did once say that picture-goers would have to be
educated to an appreciation of colour films. This was corroboration
from a source where I least expected to find it; for, of all the colourites,
inventors who have devoted everything they have to a practical
solution of the problem are the ones I can most excuse for assuming
that the public is clamouring for a solution.

If it had not been generally assumed, without leave to question,
that picture-goers would turn away from black-and-white movies to
coloured movies as greedily as a schoolboy turns away from bread
to chocolate, inventors and investors would have saved a vast amount
of effort and money. They would have tackled the problem forwards
instead of backwards. They would have recognised that, even in the
case of an article definitely desired by the public, application rather
than cheapness, ingenuity or publicity, is the factor that finally
counts in the market. Mechanically and commercially, as well as
dramatically, coloured film has been badly mishandled.

" Awaiting the technical solution " ! That is the stalemate position
our colour was in ten, say twenty, years ago. Our first task is to
make colour wanted in the cinema. Solve that problem, and the
inventors will have in their hands the only weapon they really need
for their advancement. Technical perfection comes last, not first.
The moving picture proved it. The gramophone proved it. The
radio proved it. The talkies proved it. I cannot think of any scope
in popular entertainment that has not proved it.

165

CONVERSATION PIECES

ETHICS FOR MOVIE

ALBERTO CAVALCANTI
STUART LEGG

Cavalcanti. — One of the chief difficulties which confronted me
during my recent work in France was that of assembling an ideal
team. Some of those working with me would be intellectuals ; each
was determined to have his own say and his own way in the making
of the picture. Others would be hard-working, level-headed tech-
nicians, too modest to push their ideas to the fore, and apt to be
overwhelmed by the hard-boiled commercial executives. It is
extremely difficult to get together a well-balanced team where each
man is content to have equal say in his own metier in developing the
spirit of the film.

Legg. — But if every responsible person is to have equal say, an
impossible conflict will immediately arise. A single authority must
have final word, and the obvious authority is the director.

Cavalcanti. — I don't believe in the director in the position of
dictator. The best American films — Chaplin and Lloyd — are the
result of close team-work. The same applies to the great Russian
films; Potemkin was not the work of Eisenstein alone, but of a
competent team of technicians working with him in the spirit of the
film. The best directors are those who can draw the individual
ability from each member of their staff and direct the sum total
towards the subject in hand.

Legg. — I admit that there's a great deal of nonsense talked about
' self-expression ' in the director, but there must be a point at which
his own methods emerge and assume control.

Cavalcanti. — No director can make a film by himself. He is
dependent at every step upon skilled and specialised technicians.
A good film is that which in some way allows the skill of each
technician to bring out some special quality of its subject, and not
the special quality of its director. If a director is determined to
reveal his own personality, he should indulge in one of the recognised
arts.

Legg. — Cinema is still in its baby stages. Until it becomes more
mature it's idle to lay down laws which may soon be out of date.

Cavalcanti. — True, where technical development is concerned.
But all the signs point to film-making becoming more and more the
domain of technical experts. Therefore it is safe to say that cinema

1 66

can in no case be the expression of one man's personality, but
must represent the achievement of collective effort. One of the
essential elements of art is personal expression of the artist. So cinema
can never be an art.

Legg. — That's the kind of statement that takes the spice out of
life. For our little reputations' sakes it is necessary that we should
wear the sacred halo of artistry. Otherwise our dignity and self-
respect may be seriously impaired.

Cavalcanti. — But isn't it true?

Legg. — Perfectly.

Cavalcanti. — Another essential of art is equilibrium — etat de repos.
That is, all art must take into account a happening at a given moment
— even architecture and music. Film cannot do this; its whole
essence is movement and progression.

Legg. — How, then, are we going to define cinema? All manner
of persons gather in the salle obscure — the worker, the academe, the
housewife, the aesthete. What function does it fulfil in their lives?

Cavalcanti. — Is it the need to share a common sexual intimacy
with Garbo or Chevalier?

Legg. — Is it the necessity to gather together in a mystical atmo-
sphere to seek consolation for worldly ills?

Cavalcanti. — Don't you think that the ever-similar arrangement
of the programme — comedy, cartoon, newsreel, organ, feature —
satisfies an everyday need for ritual?

Legg. — It looks as though it were a public gathering to indulge
in waves of mass beatific emotion.

Cavalcanti. — Doesn't the word religion come from the Latin
religare?

Legg. — Exactly — to bind together. And no religion is so uni-
versal.

Cavalcanti. — The salle obscure binds people together in a 'dim
religious light.'

Legg. — Most religions prescribe a sensual adoration of at least
one of their deities.

Cavalcanti. — The need for a common refuge from the world is
still deeply rooted in all human beings.

Legg. — And the craving for an outward visible symbol for an
inward spiritual act.

Cavalcanti. — But the worship of stars by the fans is as heretical
as the worship of directors by movie-aesthetes.

Legg. — Surely it will be repudiated, as Protestantism repudiated
the adoration of the Catholic saints.

Cavalcanti. — And again, the present preoccupation with mythical
figures is a perversion. The whole emphasis of the cinema must fall
upon its subject.

167

Legg. — The business of cinema is to crystallise an attitude to a
sociological trend — and to see that it does not betray this universal
trust.

Cavalcanti. — The crime of the commercials is that they use the
cinema as a drug to maintain their best of all possible worlds. The
frivolity of the pseudo-intellectuals avoids any urgent issue whatever.

Legg. — All religions become parasites at that point where they
extort money from their followers on false pretences. Unfortunately,
the cinema has made a cunning practice of that art from the day of
its foundation.

Cavalcanti.- — How strange it is that every nation creates a censor-
ship of film morals while no international convocation exists to ensure
that the film-going public is not fleeced. . . .

Legg.- — . . . when the proper duty of cinema (in terms of Reality)
is to be the work of the community for the community.

Cavalcanti. — In any case, Fascism, as the political achievement of
individualism, can never pervert the cinema to its own ends, since it
bears no relation to collective spirit.

I-egg. — No; the subjects of modern life are collective subjects.
The future of movie will lie in interpreting them.

Cinematic Design, by Leonard Hacker (Boston: Photographic
Pub. Co., $2. 50). A valuable and intelligent discussion of the
principles of form, rhythm, and relativity for amateur film-makers,
illustrated with a collection of short scenarios remarkable for a
quaint and consistent use of the dissolve in place of the cut.

The Child Manuela. By Christa Winsloe. (London : Chapman
and Hall. js. 6d.) The story of the film, Madchen in Uniform, was
originally conceived and v/ritten as a novel, though play and film
appeared first. The novel, now published for the first time, deals
largely with the life of the child Manuela at a period earlier than
that which the film portrays. It is interesting both for its intrinsic
merit and for ccmparison with Leontine Sagan's film treatment of
its theme.

Catalogue of the G.P.O. Film Library. (London: Imperial
Institute, S.W.7. Gratis.) Should be in the hands of all organisers
of ncn-theatrical performances. In an introduction, Sir Kingsley
Weed explains why this national asset is maintained by the Post
OfEce.

Modern Art (London: F. J. Ward, 3 Baker Street, W.i. is.)
A prefusely illustrated catalogue of impressionist and post-impres-
sicnist painting, a study of which is essential to all interested in
medern visual art. Ccpies of the prints illustrated are obtainable in
excellent coloured reproductions.

168

\

THE FILM ABROAD

GERMANY ON THE SCREEN

RUDOLF ARNHEIM

In a long, systematic journey through Germany, Wilfried Basse,
known as the producer of Alarkt in Berlin (Market in Berlin) and
Abbruch und Aufbau eines Hauses (Fall and Rise of a House), has
gathered a great mass of material, out of which the film on Germany
So lebt ein Volk (So lives a Nation) is created. Basse does not consider
a geographical arrangement of the material satisfactory. His film
is not merely a substitute for a journey through Germany. It gives
not only a picture of the country, but makes its nature and charac-
teristics comprehensible. It emphasises essentials, creates types,
according to Kant's principle: " Vision without comprehension is
empty; comprehension without vision is blind." From what angle
is this gigantic subject approached? Different classifications, sharp
contrasts, as city and country-, poor and rich, work and pleasure,
past and present, are useful and necessary, but none is so pre-
dominant as to form the basis of such a film. The arrangement of the
material and the classification under various headings, as children,
church-buildings, vehicles, domestic animals, etc. (this Basse did
for the preparation of the montage), is a pedantic combination of
related details, which is useful as a first survey of the whole, but does
not evolve a principle of montage.

The mutual influence of natural picture material and organizing
mind must develop an organic structure that has a strong, rigid
skeleton but at the same time gives an impression of the free
character of things grown in nature. Some groupings are cleverly
formed, others quite naturally felt and left unchanged. Basse's
material, for instance, contains certain complex groups which can
be joined to the rest without further arrangement. There are
themes like the Ruhr district and its panorama of chimneys, its
rolling-mills, its iron-foundries; the strenuous life of its people in
the shadow of the coal bings; the great port of Hamburg; and
various small themes, as a procession, a creamery, a week-end
colony, five-o'clock tea at the seaside. On the other hand, a
systematic arrangement is just as essential for the structure of this
film. Basse wants to show how the style of living in former
times is still affecting modern life — how big a part the past still
plays in the modern world. There is the smallholder, cultivating
his fields with the primitive implements of a prehistoric time,

169

beside mowers, threshing machines, tractors, and cattle farms. Or
there are historical buildings, lively reminders of the past.

Basse boldly frees himself from geographical connections and
conditions. He constructs, for instance, a concentrated picture of
a medieval town by joining photographs which have been taken
at different places in Germany. He does not simply add picture to
picture, but interweaves their single motives of action in such a way
as to create the impression of a lively unity. Different views in
different Gothic towns are photographed; the various scenes fitted
into the general picture to embody the idea of a Gothic town,
which, as it is shown, does not really exist. The facade of a
cathedral may be taken in Liibeck, the interior in Stralsund, but in
spite of that, the union of things related in age and style creates an
intense representation, because the best subjects, angles, lighting,
are chosen to suit the composition. Such a principle of montage
work puts aside those objects which are well known and visited by
the sightseer, because such pictures would bring the audience to a
false reaction, to a question Basse does not like asked — "Where did
you shoot that?"

The lively interrelation of different principles of structure allows
a consistent line to be taken, a dynamic development. From the
prehistoric forms of a primitive economic system the film leads
historically up over the Gothic style to Renaissance, from baroque
to rococo, from the Biedermeierzeit to the complacency of present
middle-class society, the provincial character of which makes possible
the crescendo of a modernised city's activity. The description of
the city is completed by showing its sources of power, slaughter-
house, produce factory, post office, traffic. Town life necessitates
recreation. The film takes us to resorts and week-end places, and
this leads up with another crescendo to the great centres of life such
as sea-ports and industrial regions, which show their characteristic
features not only in their prosperity but in the misery and strain of a
workman's life. This again leads up to a concise report of a modern
economic crisis, of unemployment, and finishes with promising pictures
of the latest labour services and reorganisation of welfare centres.

Basse does not want his film to be accompanied by explanatory
remarks. Helped only by a few concise titles and the music, the
visual composition of the film is intended to make its own meaning
clear.

Wolfgang Zeller contributes the music which reflects the visual
moods harmoniously and unites the ever-changing pictures on the
screen. It emphasises sharp contrasts — from the gay to the serious,
from the complacent to the hustle. Thus picture and sound produce
a constant variety which holds the spectator's interest and stresses
the essential. Translated by margret kappels.

170

AUSTRALIA

Australia is the third largest consuming country of British and
American films. Few European films get shown, and picture-goers
view the world almost entirely through the eyes of Hollywood and
Elstree. The Commonwealth Film Censor sees to it that our morals
are closely guarded, and when a foreign film does creep through, it
is, more often than not, hacked to pieces. An obscure Sydney
theatre, now closed, put on The Blue Angel, Sous les Toits de Paris,
Cain, The Last Company, and several Ufa pictures. The Russian Five-
Tear Plan and Turksib are the only Soviet films we have seen, and
even they were nearly excluded because of their "Communistic and
propaganda tendencies." The limited population of Australia makes
it financially impossible to import original versions of foreign films,
and thus Australia is many years behind in cinema education. If
we were given the opportunity of special screenings by " art " theatres,
as in other countries, we would take our films more seriously. At
present we are denied that enviable experience. leon s. stone.

HUNGARY

After two years of slow development, the Hunnia Studios at
Budapest have started production on a big scale. The production of
films in this country is handicapped by the fact that there are only
about two hundred cinemas. Since the seceding countries have
entirely blocked the import of Hungarian pictures, there is no outside
market. This means that the production costs of a picture can be
earned only if it is made in multi-lingual versions.

On the other hand, producing costs are considerably smaller in
Hungary than in other countries, because the Hungarian Govern-
ment, to foster national production, allows every producer making
a Hungarian version of his film to use the Hunnia Studios (which
belong to an institution of the State — the Film-Fond) free of charge.
Production costs are thus estimated to be 50 per cent, smaller than
in any other country.

It is well known that a number of prominent authors, scenarists,
directors and stars are Hungarians. Alexander Korda, Lajos Biro,
Michael Kertesz, Poul Fejos, and Vilma Banky are all Hungarians.

The Hunnia Studios are quite near to Budapest, the capital of
Hungary, with open country attached to them. They are equipped
with Tobis-Klang sound apparatus. The film-developing and print-
ing machines are mostly De Brie and Erneman makes. The cutting
rooms are equipped with Askania and Hungarian cutting desks.

171

Two stages, 72 by 80 feet and 85 by 100 feet, are in the main building
of Hunnia Studios, which also comprises about thirty dressing-
rooms, with cold and hot water.

Last year was started with the Hungarian and Roumanian
versions of The Ghost Train, by Lajos Biro, followed by The Vine, a
short Hungarian folk-play. In May and June a great patriotic
picture was produced by Sari Fedak, a famous actress of vaudeville
and Hungarian plays. In July German Universal Pictures, a branch
institution of Carl Laemmle's, was producing a comedy (Skandal in
Budapest), with Franciska Gaal and Poul Horbiger in Hungarian and
German versions. The most promising picture yet produced is
Rokoczi Marsch, in Hungarian and German versions. The cast
includes Gustav Frohlich, Tibor Halmay, Puffi Huszar, and Oscar
Beregi. In the Hungarian version many of the best stage-actors of
Hungary are acting. The picture is of Hungarian national character,
set in the most lovely Hungarian country-side, with the background
of the manoeuvres of the Hungarian army. The picture was
directed by Stephan Szekely, and the music was written by Poul
Abraham and includes some ancient folk-songs. It has had the
greatest success of any Hungarian picture. The producers are at
the present considering the possibilities of making an English version.

F. R. ORBAN.

SOUTH AFRICA

Notwithstanding great difficulties in procuring suitable films and
a place for showing with proper equipment, the film society move-
ment seems to be gaining ground. A film society has been formed at
Wellington in the Cape, while similar movements are on foot in
Bulawayo, Rhodesia, and at Durban. The Cape Film Society
showed fragments from the first part of Ivens' Zuider Zee film.
A short film, Boy, by the Dutch cineaste, Dick Laan, was enthusi-
astically received. The Dutch avant-garde seems to have found a firm
footing with certain cultural societies here, and it is almost certain
that Dutch films, like Teunissen's William of Orange, will attract a
good deal of attention. A very interesting evening was provided
when Vice-Admiral E. R. Evans, at the request of the Cape Film
Society, gave a complementary talk during the screening of Byrd's
South Pole film. The Cape Film Society closed its season this year
with a joint function in collaboration with the French Circle of the
University of Cape Town, when Joan of Arc was presented.

The Minister of the Interior has decided to establish a film
archives in which will be deposited films of historical or cultural

172

interest relating to South Africa. Attempts are being made to trace
a short film made of the late President Kruger of the Transvaal
Republic. Edgar Hyman, who made several film records during the
Boer War is in charge of the work of collecting these films for deposit
in the new S.A. Film Archives.

The Film-Radio Commission of the S.A. Akademie vir Taal,
Lettere en Kuns, a cultural society, has decided to award the
Academy's medal for 1933 to C. P. Beyers in recognition of his work
in connection with film-making. The Academy also recommended
that the Carnegie grant for the study of film technique be awarded
to Mr. Beyers. Mr. Beyers is an amateur who has made several
interesting film studies of the Kruger National Park.

H. R. VAN DER POEL.

MISCELLANY

ART AND REPRODUCTION

Rudolf Arnheim, in his article, ;;Film and Radio," was " tempted
to speak of ... an entirely new branch of art which might be called
reproductive art''' It is a little to be regretted that he yielded to the
temptation so easily. For, after all, is such a term justifiable?

Under the term "reproductive art" Arnheim includes film,
photography, radio, gramophone, and sound-film. In the first place,
take still photography. A photographer may proceed in either of
three ways: he may take his camera about with him on chance and
snap pictures on the inspiration of the moment ; or he may be struck
by a subject, decide on the best conditions to take it, and then take
it; or a subject may occur to him independently of anything external,
which he then reproduces in reality and photographs. All these
methods of approach are also known to the painter, with appropriate
modifications. The painter may be suddenly struck by the pictorial
possibilities of a scene and make a hasty sketch, which is elaborated
at leisure; or he may find a scene which attracts him, take his easel
and paint the picture on the spot; or he may make up a picture
entirely out of his head, and reproduce it on canvas directly (not
being under the obligation of the photographer to reproduce it
first in reality, although he may get help from models). In each
case there is first a mental image, and finally a picture. The photo-
graph follows the same laws of composition as the painting, appeals
to the same kind of sensibility, and can be judged by the same
standards. It is true that it is bad art to make a photograph look like

173

a painting, or a painting like a photograph; but only as it is bad
architecture to make a reinforced concrete factory look like a Doric
temple. It is a question of media. But, if this is the case, can we
say not merely that photography and painting are different arts,
but that they belong to different classes of art?

Coming to films: is there art in the simple reproduction of a
stage play or variety turn? Obviously not; and the result is not
true film. But is there art in the reproduction of a Mickey Mouse
cartoon? Is there selection of angles, selection of viewpoint, or
anything else? There cannot be. The camera's only job is to
reproduce the object (that is, the drawing) set before it as clearly as
possible. Yet the result is admitted by most people to be true film.
Are there, then, two kinds of film, belonging to widely separated
genera of arts?

Take the third case : radio. Reproduction of a piece of music is
admittedly not radio art. Reproduction of a stage play, by analogy
with films, is unlikely to be so. But according to Arnheim, Goethe's
"Faust" is more a radio play than a stage drama, and therefore a
radio production of "Faust" is radio art. What difference between
the stage and radio production is so essential that it transmutes
"Faust" into a different kind of art? Or is it not the case that radio
drama is simply an improved way of obtaining the same effect on
the spectator as in stage drama?

A play, "Easter 1916," produced at the Dublin Gate Theatre,
was mostly made up of speeches off-stage. These were accompanied
by a simple and thematically unimportant, though pleasing, visual
setting, which remained substantially unchanged throughout. All
the information, and nearly all the emotion, was conveyed verbally.
Are we to believe that if this play were broadcast (which would
need no change except the elimination of the setting) the effect
would be something different not only in degree, but in kind?

Photography and painting, radio plays and stage drama, cartoon-
film and normal story-film are not different arts but different
techniques. The only new art is that of the film, and it is new
because a succession of visual images cannot be created without the
help of some mechanical apparatus. The only new departure made
possible by radio, gramophone, and sound-strip is the orchestration
of natural sounds, and this will very probably prove to be a branch
of music. The effect of the spoken word is not magically transmuted
simply because it happens to come through a loud-speaker.

The film uses reality because it cannot help doing so, and the
reality is not the first thing. The first thing is the image in the
mind, and the reality is then chosen so that the resulting photograph
will resemble, as closely as possible, the original image.

G. F. D ALTON.

174

Advance stills from ''Kongo Raid/' a London Films production
directed by Zoltan Korda. The exteriors for the film, which
is adapted from Edgar Wallace's "Sanders of the River/'
were taken in Uganda and the Congo. The photography is
by Osmond Borrodaile and Bernard Browne.

A SHETLAND LYRIC

THE RUGGED ISLAND, stills of which appear on this and the
opposite page, is an admirable example of what the independent
film-maker can do with courage and initiative. Produced, directed
and photographed by Jenny Brown, who has already made several
short films of life in Shetland, it is a study of changing conditions in
the Islands and of the dissatisfaction of youth with the old standards
of living. Certain weaknesses in the scenario are compensated for
by the naturalness of the acting and a fine sense of composition and
form which gives Miss Brown's photography of the sea-girt, rocky
landscape an impressive beauty.

The importance of The Rugged Island is that it is a personal
achievement, conceived and fashioned almost single-handed, free
from any sort of commercial domination, and pointing the way to a
method of individual film-making considerably nearer the ideal than
is possible under the usual conditions of commercial production.

THE RUGGED ISLAND

Tin scenario of The Rugged Island was built around two crofter
families, the idea behind the story being to express through these
selected lives the story of all the Shetland Island people: the hard
struggle for a living; the desire of youth, to whom closer contact
with the rest of the world through wireless and newspapers has
brought unrest and dissatisfaction with a mere existence, to try their
luck in a wider sphere; and the difficulties that bar their way, lack
of actual money, and the dependence of the old folk, who have
grown prematurely old in their battle to win food and clothing
from sea and land.

We were a film unit often with very little filming experience, but

we knew what results we wanted and considered amongst ourselves
the best way to get them. The directing and camera work was my
job. I had one Eyemo camera with which I had shot five thousand
feet of interest film the previous summer. John Gilbertson, an
islander, as well as acting the hero of the story was the practical
man-of-all-work, and did anything from mending the camera to
constructing all the sets for interior shots. The heroine, Enga S.
Stout, took on a variety of jobs, frcm whitewashing the walls of the
house to leading the borrowed cow from its home to the set when
needed. The other members of the cast lent a hand when necessary,
and the old folk were always ready and willing to play their part
when they were needed.

Weather, fortunately, was exceptionally good, and the northern
atmosphere steadily clear, for I shot almost consistently with a K2
filter at 8 from May until November, when I had to open up to
5.6 or 4, though I very often still clung to the favourite K2 filter.

The croft one family lived on was used as their background in the
film. For the other family a derelict house was repaired and thatched
and the land retrieved from the hillside. For the interiors another
ruin, five miles away, was converted into a very home-like 'but'
room. This room had to act in turn as the "but" of three crofters'
houses, a difficulty which was overcome by manufacturing three
different types of fireplace, changing whitewashed walls to wall-paper,
and varying furniture, photographs, texts, clocks, dishes, etc.

As the film came back developed, the rough first cutting was
done on dull days in a deserted church hall converted into a studio,
and the final cutting was done in the south when the film was
completed. Cutting finally your own stuff I find the hardest part of
filming. Besides that, it is almost impossible to forget all that went
to make each shot and see the film as a stranger; to completely cut
out those shots and scenes it took days of hard work to get is almost
physically painful. When the cuts are made, of course, one wonders
why one ever hesitated.

There are thousands of stories in Scotland and England for the
independent film producer. Camera instinct, capital, and common
sense are the chief essentials. It's expensive, of course, profiting
by your own mistakes, but at least you remember them. There is one
very important business point — if you want to market your stuff,
make certain beforehand the boundary lines of each market,
documentary, etc., and keep within them. Otherwise you may have
lovely material, but no one will handle it. Jenny Brown

178

FILMS OF THE QUARTER

FACT OR FICTION?

FORSYTH HARDY

After Henry VIII, the deluge. The remarkable and unexpected
success of Korda's spectacular experiment with history has sent his
fellow-producers scurrying to their text-books, there to search for
romantic heroes and heroines with traits of character sufficiently
and suitably startling to make the story of their lives attractive on
the screen. The search is taking the course we expected, and in
addition to four versions of the life of Mary Queen of Scots (!),
we are to have Charles II, Louis XVI and Napoleon, Queen Eliza-
beth, Marie Antoinette and Nell Gwynn. The list is representative
rather than complete, and does not include the less credible rumours :
Clive Brook as Julius Caesar and Frederic March as Antony.

It ought to be recognised that this sudden interest in historical
characters does not have its source in a disinterested desire among
the film producers to educate the movie millions about the events
of the past. Enviously watching the success of Henry VIII, they
have realised that history, made to measure for the screen, can be
attractive romantic material; and that the public will come, in
crowds and uncritically, to see the stars as kings and queens and
princes. As with all but the exceptional film in the cinema as we
know it, the aim is entertainment: it is not to revive documentary
evidence or to provide illustrations for the history text-books.

Has the film, then, no responsibility towards history? Complete
and exact historical accuracy, though preferable when possible,
is not to be pursued as an end in itself. "There is nothing more
futile," Korda has written, "than to attempt to satisfy the pains-
taking exactitude of the expert." An example of an unreasonable
demand for accuracy came recently from a critic who protested
that only one of the characters in Henry VIII, Anne of Cleves, bore
any recognisable resemblance to her original. But it is patently
ridiculous to expect a film producer to secure a cast exactly similar
in face and physique to the historical characters being represented.
Nor is complete historical accuracy always possible. It has been
pointed out, for example, that the historical facts and recorded
dialogue in connection with the encounter between Henry VIII
and Anne of Cleves would not pass any censor in the world.

Of real importance, however, are the distinctive spirit of the
character and the general atmosphere of the period. The accurate

*79

representation and re-creation of those must be pursued and is to
be praised. If there is to be only a superficial resemblance to the
original, then the film has no justifiable claim to the historical
names and associations (and, incidentally, publicity value), and is
no better than any other costume melodrama which is content with
the cardboard kings and queens of Ruritania and Arcadia.

There is a social reason why the grossly-distorting historical
film is to be condemned. Such is the composition of the movie
audience that the majority will be unable from their own know-
ledge, to compare the impression given with the historical facts;
and thus what is related on the screen will come to represent their
entire knowledge of the incidents and characters described. Where
the description is accurate — except perhaps for minor errors apparent
only to the expert — the result will be educative and praiseworthy;
but where the description is grossly inaccurate the result will be a
regrettable dissemination of false information.

From this point of view, the quarter's two chief historical films
are hardly faultless. In Catherine the Great we find no evidence of a
ruthlessly ambitious woman who was probably a party to the
murder of her husband, and who proceeded to rule thereafter with
the brutality typical of the period. In Queen Christina we find a
daughter of Gustavus Adolphus whose abdication to join a young
Spanish envoy comes as a complete surprise to her people, and is
accompanied by none of the sordid preliminary discussions re-
corded in history. I leave it to the experts to decide whether or not
the producers are entitled to invite us to see Catherine of Russia
and Christina of Sweden or whether they would have been more
honest to claim no more than Ruritania as the background for some
costumed romance.

Consideration of Catherine the Great apart, the quarter has pro-
duced no outstanding British films. Waltzes from Vienna has revealed
Hitchcock's craftsmanship to be as expert as always, but the achieve-
ment of the film, an adaptation of the spectacular musical play,
was limited from the beginning. Red Ensign has the virtue of being
based on an original story. Handled with a sense of the theme's
importance, the film might have told impressively the story of
British shipbuilding, but Gaumont-British, ignoring the real-life
drama of the delayed Cunarder on the Clyde, have been content
to use the shipyards as a mere background for a rapid melodrama.
Similarly, The Song of the Plough, though it sets its drama in the
English countryside and takes some notice of the contemporary
economic situation, is treated so ineptly that it fails to come alive.
We are still no nearer to undertaking the task of " telling the rest
of the world the truth about Britain" — a shortcoming about which
Eric Knight so properly protested in his " Synthetic America."

1 80

Accomplishment in this connection is still limited to the shorter
documentaries; but the effect of these is not to be written-off as
negligible. The remarkable popularity of the films produced by
the E.M.B. Film Unit is beginning to alter the outlook of the com-
mercial producer to documentary. Those earlier films, at present
being exhibited throughout the country, include Industrial Britain,
by Grierson and Flaherty, which, in a series of intelligently con-
ceived and expressively photographed sequences, convincingly
argues that behind the smoke and the steam of modern industry
there is always the craftsman, and that Britain's industrial supremacy
is built up on a centuries-old tradition of craftsmanship. Two films
by Basil Wright, The Country Comes to Town and O'er Hill and Dale,
have the lyrical quality that has been apparent in all of Wright's
work. The latter gives a simple, clear-cut impression of the meaning
of Spring to the shepherd — the anxieties, the dangers, the rewards.
In this film Wright has caught, with an effectiveness only a Scots-
man can appreciate, the peculiar atmosphere of the cold, grey,
empty uplands of Southern Scotland. Also among the E.M.B.
documentaries now being generally exhibited is Arthur Elton's
Upstream, an illuminating impression of the salmon trek from the
sea to the breeding-grounds. Here Elton, forestalling Pudovkin,
makes effective use of the close-up in time, grading the leaping
salmon in various degrees of slow motion and thus securing some
curious and interesting emphases. These films, at least, have begun
the task of showing Britain on the screen. Their success will surely
persuade the producers that modern London can be as interesting
on the screen as Old Vienna, and that there is no need to go to the
ends of the earth when drama is waiting on the doorstep.

The quarter is more interesting if not more distinctive for Thunder
Over Mexico. Paul Rotha discusses two important aspects of the
film's exhibition. For the rest, it may be recorded that the film as
we see it is little more than a Mexican Bad Man tale of the rape of
one girl and the execution of three peons, with a prologue and
epilogue scrappily descriptive of the emergence of a new Mexico.
Without the control of the mind originally conceiving the theme,
the film has neither coherence nor conviction. The style, too, is
impossible to associate with the director of Potemkin.

America's films of the quarter are odd in their variety. They
include Little Women, which has been welcomed as "a complete
joy" by one critic who thinks it "simple [and] sincere to the spirit
of a gorgeously sentimental race." The film certainly reproduces,
to the last sniff, the last sob, every drop of the sentimentality which
has made the novel an established best-seller. In complete contrast
is the advanced sophistication of Lubitsch's Design for Living. It is
hard to find a common strain also in two such films as Alice in Won-

181

derland and The Bowery. The first is an efficient but pedestrian
adaptation of a fantastic theme calling for imagination and re-
source to be effective on the screen; the second is a broad comedy of
life in the Bowery towards the end of last century, a completely
a-moral concoction of sadism and sentiment. Meanwhile, the
stream of musical films from Hollywood continues unabated with
The Cat and the Fiddle, Wonder Bar and Roman Scandals on the crest
of an on-coming wave.

THUNDER OVER MEXICO

Production: Upton Sinclair and friends. Photography: Edouard Tisse.
Assembling: Sol Lesser. Music: Hugo Riesenfeld. Distribution:
£enifilms. Length: 66gofeet.

The storm over Eisenstein and Sinclair and their joint Mexican
catastrophe has by now almost blown itself out, and I do not intend
to continue the argument for either side when so much has already
been printed by people more familiar with the actual facts than
myself. Some day, I suppose, someone will divulge the whole story.
Meanwhile, I cordially commend you to Ivor Montagu's summing-
up of the case in "The New Statesman" (Jan. 20). It remains only
for us to condole with Upton Sinclair for the immense sum of money
(not his friends', I hope) he must be spending in writing letters in
defence of himself; with Eisenstein for the role of martyr imposed
upon his shaggy head by his youthful well-wishers; and with our-
selves for not seeing what might have been a film among films.

You will agree that no useful purpose can be served in criticising
what appears on the English and American screens as Eisenstein's
picture, for its traveloguesque cutting by Lesser and its synthetic
music by Riesenfeld make the sugary images dull going. Only two
results of the picture's showing need concern us here. One, that
Eisenstein's name should be dragged in the slime of American show-
manship before a public unacquainted with the facts; and two,
that heavy filtered skies can get the critics twittering as only critics
can.

Can nothing be done to prevent the advertisement of a director's
name in connection with a picture when he has withdrawn his hand?
There is surely urgent need of a protection committee for directors
who have fallen foul of their producers and who wish to withdraw all
responsibility for the film put before the public as their own. Such
are the conditions of film-making to-day that every important
director would subscribe. It should be made possible in such a
case as Thunder Over Mexico for Eisenstein to have caused Sinclair

182

Above. One of the sketches prepared by Vincent Korda for the
settings of " Catherine the Great."

Below. A corresponding still from the film, taken from the
opposite side showing the accurate reproduction of the design.
Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. is standing by the open fire and Gerald
du Maurier beside one of the pillars.

Greta Garbo in " Queen Christina/' a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
production directed by Rouben Mamoulian from the scenario
by Salka Viertel and H. M. Harwood. The photography is by
William Daniels.

to remove his name from the picture before it was given a public
showing. The Soviet is not alone in this misfortune. I know of
several directors — Pabst, Vidor and Stroheim among them — who
would have had their credit withdrawn from certain pictures owing
to interference either during shooting or editing. As it is, many have
heard of Eisenstein as the maker of Potemkin and will view this
Mexican travesty with astonished eyes.

My second point raises the old issue of what constitutes good
photography. From the eulogistic press we gather that wrhite
clouds in a dark sky are the hallmark of quality, and it would
appear that this sort of stuff can lead the critics into believing that
they are also seeing good film. You will remember that the same
thing occurred with The Blue Light. Now, if they like this sort of
stuff why don't they tell us about Herbert's Movietone series,
amongst which the Irish item has Tisse's over-correction beaten to a
frazzle. They forget, moreover, as Grierson has pointed out, that
Eisenstein's films have not previously been notable for their great
photography, but rather for the referential treatment which he
employs in his cutting. They forget, also, that almost any photo-
grapher given the same set of Wrattens, the same conditions and the
same locations, could produce equally sweet images. So an end to
this photographic fetish and let them get down to the essentials of
movie-making which were not to be found in Lesser-Sinclair's free
gift to the art of the cinema.

Paul Rotha.

QUEEN CHRISTINA

Production and Distribution: Metro-Goldwyn- Mayer. Scenario: Salka
Viertel and H. M. Harwood. Direction: Rouben Mamoulian. Photo-
graphy: William Daniels. Editing: Blanche Sewell. With Greta
Garbo, Lewis Stone, John Gilbert. Length: 9047 feet.

I do not find it in me to write about this picture, for it would be
too cruel, but I must write instead of Garbo, who contrives, though
Heaven knows how, to surpass all the badness they thrust upon her.
Of her many American pictures, all without exception have been
trash; yet this astonishing woman surmounts the very crudity with
which they choose to surround her. Here, a lithe figure sheathed
in men's breeches and stamping boots, she strides into our presence
and again reveals her dynamic personal magnetism. She is a woman,
it seems, destined to continue in a world that spells misunderstanding.
No director who has tried to harness these grave features to his will
has yet been able to create a film which brings us the woman as she
is. Queen Christina perhaps comes nearest; with its great close-ups

185

and sublime fading shot. But the showman tricks of Mamoulian
and the base falseness of the environment conspire against her.
Before it is too late, before the synthetic background against which
she moves makes final reckoning, may she, like this old-time Queen
of Sweden, set her back to the call of glamour and give herself just
once into the hands of a mind which may try to understand her, so
that such a film above all others may be preserved for posterity.
That this imagined picture will find its shape in Europe I have no
doubt, because it is against the whole American conception that
Garbo battles.

Paul Rotha.

CATHERINE THE GREAT

Production: London Films. Supervision: Alexander Korda. Direction:
Paul Czinner. Scenario: Lajos Biro and Arthur Wimperis. Photo-
graphy: Georges Perinal. Settings: Vincent Korda. Costumes: John
Armstrong. With Elisabeth Bergner, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Flora
Rob son, Gerald du Maurier. Distribution: United Artists. Length:
8650 feet.

Forget your social and historical conscience and you will find the
new Korda picture amusing diversion punctuated with moments
of drama. It is polished; it is artificial; and it is theatrical in treat-
ment. But if you are tolerantly disposed towards romantic costume
pictures, the insignificance of all this pomp and petulance will not
arise to disturb your entertainment.

Closer inspection reveals much to praise and not a little to
criticise. Let us be pleasant first: about the settings of the film,
which in all ways mark such an advance on the customary British
setting that I may be too enthusiastic. But these sets depicting the
Imperial Palace have a dignity and a regal lavishness quite different
from the property-room bazaars which usually do service for movie
royal magnificence. And the clothes. Armstrong has excelled in
his designing, becoming decorative yet remaining practical (no easy
task), notably in the case of young Fairbanks and Flora Robson.
True, the court loungers stand about as if at a fancy-dress party,
but that is Czinner's and not Armstrong's fault. Perinal also has
maintained a pretty focus, weak in patches where the set-ups mean
nothing to the content; but perhaps that also is the fault of the
director.

I found Elisabeth Bergner curiously disappointing, in some way
unable to grasp the drama within the scene and interpret it for us.
Despite my admiration for her brilliant ability, I am doubtful if
she was cast correctly. The younger Fairbanks, labouring under

186

a bad make-up, begins well, but fails to remain impressive, his
madness having no inspiration save storming and his quieter moods
being too superficial to impress. Flora Robson I liked best of all.
She carried conviction and behaved credibly. She perhaps failed
to give full meaning to her lines ; but then the dialogue throughout is
trashy. People, either ancient or modern, do not express them-
selves in the tit-bits style which has been adapted in these pseudo-
historical pictures.

The direction, attributed to Czinner under the supervision of
Korda, I have purposely left till last because it is the most difficult
to assess. It looks as if Bergner, Fairbanks and the others have been
given their heads, and the camera adjusted to them. There is little
attempt to create any of the situations cinematically, to get under-
neath the skin of the dramatic incidents and present them through
the camera. The picture's appeal rests upon its physical good looks
and, from this point of view, almost succeeds. But you will know
better than to expect some re-creation of the spirit of Russia in the
eighteenth century, of the famine that stalked the land or the in-
tolerant tyranny that held the reins.

Paul Rotha.

MALA THE MAGNIFICENT

Production and Distribution: Metro-Goldwyn- Mayer. Direction: W. S.
Van Dyke. Photography : Clyde de Vinna and others. Length: g6jo
feet.

This epic of the Arctic pre-dates Flaherty's Nanook by about ten
years and should have been put before the public just before the
War. Actually, of course, it is M.G.M.'s successor to Trader Horn,
and follows in the same path of exploiting the naturalistic tradition
for the sake of box-office. Arctic conditions, however, could not
have been so inviting to Van Dyke as that pleasant camp at the
foot of the Murchison Falls, and I am not surprised that so much
of the picture bears signs of Culver City. It would seem that the
formula for these pictures is murder — whether of man or beast —
for only by killing can Van Dyke produce the necessary thrilling
scenes for M.G.M. to sponsor the outfit. I do not remember how
many animals were slain in Mala to secure the right effect of
thrill on the audience, but the number includes walrus, polar bear,
caribou — and fish. The deliberation with which this is presented
is nauseating and is not excused by the fact that primitive peoples
kill to eat. So also do we, but our films are not filled with slaughter-
houses. Technically the film is insignificant, with photography that
increases our respect for Aanook, and a use of native dialogue that

187

is cumbersome and unnecessary. The Esquimo heroine, I am told
on good authority, comes from some South American dive. Yet,
though I hate to confess it, Mala is better than the usual run of
adapted plays. Paul Rotha.

DESIGN FOR LIVING. {American. Paramount.) As dramatic
critics who write about films have pointed out, presumably in con-
demnation, Lubitsch has not made a photograph of Noel Coward's
play. He has shaped the theme afresh for the screen, clipped from
it its moral theorising and tailor-made it for his players — Miriam
Hopkins, Frederic March, Gary Cooper and Edward Everett
Horton— just as Coward, on his own confession, tailor-made the
play for Alfred Lunt, Lynn Fontanne and himself. It is pleasant,
slick, superficial farce, without any introspection. The imposing
title, as Ivor Brown has remarked, has been given to "a little comedy
about the amorous manoeuvres of two trivial men and one trivial
woman," and Design for Loving would have been more appropriate
for a film describing the predicament of a young woman in love
with two men at the same time, and the "gentleman's agreement,"
precluding sex, under which they contract to live together in a
Paris apartment. As always, Lubitsch handles his players with skill
and sympathy, though Gary Cooper seems somewhat out of his
element. Lubitsch is one of the few directors who have succeeded
consistently in leaving their films with the imprint of a single dominat-
ing personality. Design for Living is in the true Lubitsch tradition,
and I think it his most satisfying sound film. F. H.

Ifl V

WHITHER GERMANY? [British. B. and N.) Typical of a
-current tendency to survey conditions in Europe by means of news-
reel extracts is this short film which describes the trend of events in
Germany since pre- War times. Its purpose is to awaken conscious-
ness of the direction those events are taking and, though the com-
mentary is restrained, it is plain that the film has been made with
the conviction that Nazi Germany is moving towards war. The
opening sequences emphasise the nation's love of pageantry, repre-
sented in carnivals and folk-dances, and it is suggested that this can
find more sinister outlet in displays of militarism. The film main-
tains the belief that militarism was the cause of the War, and after
brief sequences dealing with post- War conditions in a depressed and
defeated country, troops again dominate the screen. A parallel is
drawn between the goose-stepping troops who marched past the
Kaiser and the Nazi troops who march in similar fashion past
Hitler to-day. Here the film's conviction is most obviously apparent.

1 88

The closing shots pointedly contrast a sports ground crowded with
young men exercising, and a graveyard patterned with small white
crosses. Composed as it is of actual material, the film has a certain
educative value, but the bias in the selection of the sequences must
be remembered. F. H.

ANNA UND ELISABETH. [German. Kollectiv.) This is primarily an
acting him and does not enlarge our experience of cinema. It is
unfolded slowly and deliberately with great emphasis of detail, but
like so many German films it is inclined to meander before arriving
at the point. The story describes the relations of two women, one a
wealthy but crippled recluse and the other a peasant girl, credited
by the villagers with the power of working miracles. No matter how
much the Germans leave their studios and get out into the open
air, they still retain their studio mind. That is the great fault of this
picture. Frank Wysbar could learn a great deal from Duvivier.
Dorothea Wieck's Elisabeth and Hertha Thiele's Anna are the two
main interests of acting. You will remember both of them in Mad-
chen in Uniform. The former, now with Paramount in Hollywood,
shows a considerable power of emotion, but is inclined to give way
to mannerisms which become irritating. Hertha Thiele, on the
other hand, plays less sensationally and more capably. In addition,
Mathias Wieman's consumptive is a restrained and wholly admirable
performance. P. R.

DUCK SOUP. [American. Paramount.) A new director, Leo
McCarey, has effected a subtle change in the Marx tradition. Pre-
viously the wildness of the Brothers has lacked the wild logic that
would have given it purpose and removed from the film the im-
pression of loose and haphazard construction. In Duck Soup, McCarey
appears to have exercised a greater influence, both over the com-
posing of the scenario and the performance of the Brothers. This
has had two results : the picture has direction and a sense of purpose ;
and the Brothers, their madness hampered somewhat by a method,
have not always the spontaneity we expect. But if the latter is
regrettable, the former is more than sufficient compensation. The
setting is Ruritania, and there is some glorious burlesque of pomp
and pageantry, of Cabinet meetings and political receptions, of a
State trial and of modern warfare : and, as always, of conventional
etiquette, for the Marx Brothers are the supreme anarchists of the
screen. One incidental sequence of slapstick in which Harpo smashes
a mirror and then appears opposite Groucho as his reflection, is the
funniest thing in any Marx film since The Cocoanuts. F. H.

189

GUIDE TO FILM-GOING

EVERYWOMAN'S MAN {American. M.G.M.). Grierson once wrote that "there
are good fight-films and fight-films not so good, but none bad." This is of the
former, a fight-film of giants, rapid and exciting. W. S. Van Dyke directed from
the fool-proof script of Frances Marion.

FOUR FRIGHTENED PEOPLE. {American. Paramount.) Cecil de Mille
sacrifices all claims to intelligence as a director with this idiotic adaptation of
Arnot Robertson's novel.

GOLDEN HARVEST {American. Paramount). An attempt to introduce con-
temporary economic problems and settings into story films, this picture of the
wheat-belt and the Chicago wheat-pit is well ahead of the ordinary run. People
do strange things in an improbable manner, but it is worth seeing.

THE INVISIBLE MAN {American. Universal). This lively interpretation of the
Wells fantasy would have been more forceful and successful if there had been a
completely realistic background for the study of the exhuberant sense of freedom
and escape enjoyed by a man unencumbered by a body. Gross overacting and
the ponderous love story weaken the effect. Interesting chiefly for its astonishing
technical ingenuity.

LIEBELEI {German). An adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler's romantic tragedy,
describing the effects of the subordination of human feelings to rigid standards of
social honour. Delicate in treatment, beautifully acted, cold and formal in mood.
Max Ophuls directed.

THE MASCOT {French. H. Rose). With immense patience and fine artistry, M.
Starevitch and his wife have succeeded in making children's toys and the animated
contents of a garbage tin as expressive as many a Hollywood puppet. It is a
child's dream, but the macabre atmosphere and grotesque fantasy border on
nightmare. Indifferent editing has not helped an occasionally obscure story.

UN MONASTERE {French. Film Society). An intimate impression of the life of a
Trappist monk, by Robert Alexandre, director of The Polish Corridor. Effectively
photographed and skilfully edited, the film shows not only the ordinary routine
of the monastery, but such intimate scenes as a funeral service and a communion
rite. Sombre but not unimpressive.

NIGHT FLIGHT {American. M.G.M.). A melodrama of the South American
night mail ; a clumsy patchwork of fine aerial shots by Elmer Dyer and Charles
Marshall — studio reconstructions of airport interiors, plentiful Dunning, and
episodic "human" incidents. Scenes of radio communication between ground
and air are effective.

L'ORDONNANCE {French). Tourjanski is heavy-handed and uses excess footage
to put across his points, but the film, adapted from a de Maupassant story, is better
than most recent Continental imports. Watch for the opening and the ending:
they are economically shot. But you will go away with the impression that
Tourjanski is more of a theatre showman than a movie director.

LE PETIT ROI {French). Julien Duvivier has directed this Ruritanian tale
realistically and without comic purpose, and there is a carefully contrived back-
ground for a compelling performance by Robert Lynen as a boy king who prefers
mud-larking at Monte Carlo to kingship in a mist-bound mediaeval castle. The
photography has a fine atmospheric quality.

• AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT regarding the booking of films b>
film societies and other organisations will be found on page 199.

igO

FILM SOCIETIES

TYNESIDE FILM SOCIETY

The Tyneside Film Society had its beginnings at a small public
meeting held in Newcastle in December 1932, and after fourteen
months, during which the committee experienced a series of re-
verses, January 1934 finally saw the committee in a position to
report that the major obstacles had been overcome. The Newcastle
Watch Committee has issued licences for private Sunday per-
formances, and it may perhaps be stated for the information of those
experiencing difficulty in securing similar licences that the negotia-
tions were placed in the hands of an experienced solicitor and a
memorandum was distributed to members of the Licensing Com-
mittee setting out the aims of the Society, the case for the Society,
proposed programmes, and relevant extracts from the Constitution.
The membership was 450 at the end of February. The sub-
scription for the session 1933-4 is 6s., and a comprehensive programme
has been organised. Of the three private exhibitions arranged, two
have so far been held; the films which have been shown include
The New Generation, Sous Les Toits de Paris, King's English, Der Trau-
mende Mund, In der Nacht, and Country Comes to Town. Other items on
the Society's programme are two private exhibitions of silent docu-
mentary and entertainment films for children, a public film ex-
hibition for children arranged in conjunction with the Modern
Languages Association (the programme will include A Nous la
Liberte), a public exhibition of stills from British and foreign
films of outstanding merit or interest, displays of amateur 16-mm.
films, joint meetings with local dramatic and other societies, and
lectures on film appreciation and the technique of production. The
Society has formed a strong link with Montagu Amateur Pictures,
an amateur Newcastle film-producing body which has won inter-
national and national awards, and A. G. Greaves, A.R.P.S., its
chairman, has joined the committee. Arrangements have been
made for a Saturday afternoon excursion with Montagu Pictures
during the production of its next film; the committee feels that its
objects are served as much by stressing the technical side of film
production as by merely exhibiting films of distinction.

As the objects of the Society include the exertion of some influence
where possible on the character of programmes in local cinemas,
a proposal to issue a regular commentary on local films has received

X9J

consideration. In the meantime the Chairman of the Society,

Ernest Dyer, B.A., has been appointed regular film critic of Tyne-

side'smost influential newspaper, the "Newcastle Evening Chronicle,"

and has been given an entirely free hand.

The Hon. Secretary of this new and energetic body is M. C.

Pottinger, c/o The Literary and Philosophical Society, Newcastle-

on-Tyne, i.

THE FILM SOCIETY, 56 Manchester Street, London, W.i. 14th Jan. Paris
Markets. Tonende Handschrift. Un Monaster e. The Table of the Poor. (All Film Soc.)
nth Feb. Gathering Moss (B.I.F.). Reiniger's Carmen (Film Soc.). Reifende
Jugend (Film Soc.) . 1 1 th Mar. Complete version of Eisenstein's October (Film Soc.) .

BILLINGHAM FILM SOCIETY, Hon. Sec. J. R. Park, 26 Redwing Lane,
Norton. Performances of films similar to those given by other societies are held
at a local picturehouse on Wednesday evenings. There is no formal membership,
anyone being able to attend by buying a ticket at the box-office.
BIRMINGHAM FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. S. G. Hawes, 163 Pershore Road,
Birmingham. 14th Jan. Loves of Zero (Film Soc). Thunder ', Lightning and Rain.
The Fourteenth of July (Film Soc). nth Feb. Prague (Film Soc). Synthetic Sound
Tracks (Film Soc). Zuts' Cartoon (Film Soc). Ekstase (Film Soc). nth Mar.
Springtime at the Z00 (B.I.F.). Tonende Handschrift (Film Soc). La Maternelle (Film
Soc).

CHESHIRE FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec Diana Baerlin, Whatcroft Hall,
Northwich. 4th Jan. Steel (G.-B. Dis.). Les Mains (Film Soc). Ekstase (Film
Soc). 15th Feb. Vienna the Wonderful. Disney's Just Dogs (G.-B. Dis.). Madchen
in Uniform (Nat. Dis.). 15th Mar. The Mystery Ship. Disney's The Fire Fighters
(G.-B. Dis.). Rasputin.

CROYDON FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. G. R. Bailey, 56 High Street, Croydon.
2 1 st Jan. The Eternal Triangle (primitive). Reiniger's Cinderella (Film Soc).
Turksib (Arcos). The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. 25th Feb. Berlin (Wardour). A Nous
la Libert e (Universal). 18th Mar. Romance in a Pond (B.I. F.). Finding His Voice
(West. Electric). Contact (Wardour). Fischinger's Hungarian Dances (Filmophone) .
Potemkin (Arcos).

EDINBURGH FILM GUILD, 17 South St. Andrew Street, Edinburgh. 7th
Jan. Uberfall (Film Soc). O'er Hill and Dale (G.-B. Dis.). Disney's Egyptian
Melodies (G.-B. Dis.). Der Traumende Mund (Film Soc). nth Feb. Kamet Con-
quered (GifTord). Disney's Fox Hunt (G.-B. Dis.). The Virtuous Isidore
(Film Soc).

On 20th Feb. a sub-standard performance included The Wonderful Lie (Pathe-
scope), All on a Summer's Day and Hair, made by the Meteor Society, and a film
of the Borders by Alan Harper. i8th-24th Mar. premier show of Jenny Brown's
Shetland film The Rugged Island.

FILM SOCIETY OF GLASGOW. Hon. Sec D. Paterson Walker, 127 St.
Vincent Street. 14th Jan. Making the Feather Wait, Ideal Cinemagazine (G.-B.
Dis.). Canal Barge (Film Soc). Sound Track Patterns (Film Soc). The Road to Life
(Arcos). 4th Feb. Screen Snapshot (Columbia). Mountain Music (First National).
Granton Trawler (G.P.O.). Ekstase (Film Soc). 25th Feb. Zut's Cartoon (Film
Soc). Tonende Handschrift (Film Soc). O'er Hill and Dale (G.-B. Dis.). Hunted
People (Film Soc). nth Mar. Pudovkin's Deserter (Film Soc). Barbarina (Beacon).
Lectures have been given by C. A. Oakley on "The American Film," and
J. C. Elder on "Educational Films." Sub-standard films shown have included
Hungarian Rhapsody, Moana, and The Covered Wagon.

192

LEICESTER FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. E. Irving Richards, Vaughan Collcga
Leicester. 20th Jan. Reiniger's Harlequin (Film Soc). Spione Am IVerk (Wardour).
17th Feb. Granton Trawler (G.P.O.). Cargo from Jamaica (G.P.O.). The Road to
Life (Arcos).

Two performances have been held in conjunction with the Vaughan College
Students' Union. 13th Jan. The Story of a Glass of Water (B.I.F.). Elton's Aero
Engine (G.P.O.). The Life of the Bean (B.I.F.). The White Hell of Pit* Palu (Uni-
versal). 3rd Feb. M (Nat. Dis.), etc. Members of the Society are able to attend
a series of ten University Extension lectures, being given by John Grierson, on
"The Art of the Cinema."

MAIDSTONE FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. Miss G. M. Nicholson, Fowden
Hall, London Road, Maidstone. 21st Jan. Don Quixote (United Artists;. A Nous
la Liberie (Universal). 18th Feb. We Take off our Hals (Wardour). Don Dougio
Farabanca (Asfi). Hunted People (Film Soc).

MANCHESTER AND SALFORI) WORKERS' FILM SOCIETY, 86 Hulton
Street, Salford. 20th Jan. In der Nacht (Film Soc). The Road to Life (Arcos).
24th Feb. The Crazy Roy. War is Hell (W. P. Films). 24th Mar. ^uyderzeewerks
(Film Soc). The Mighty World. The General Line (Arcos).

NORTHWICH FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec W. Baldwin Fletcher, I.C.I.
(Alkali) Ltd., Northwich. 3rd Jan. Oh, What a Night. Madchen in Uniform (Nat.
Dis.). Drifters (New Era). 7th Feb. Cargo from Jamaica (G.P.O.). 17th Jan.
Gaumont Sound Mirror. The Telephone Service (G.P.O.). Tabu (Paramount).
Disney's Barnyard Broadcast (G.-B. Dis.). Reiniger's Harlequin (Film Soc). Ninety
Degrees South. 14th Mar. Brock the Badger (B.I.F.). Symphony of the Streets
(Film Soc). Disney's Night (G.-B. Dis.). Pacific 231 (Film Soc). Hunted People
(Film Soc).

OXFORD CITY FILM SOCIETY. Hon. Sec. Mrs. Hilda Harrison, Sandlands,
Boars Hill, Oxford. 7th Jan. The Seashell and the Clergyman (Film. Soc). Disney's
Whoopee Party (G.-B. Dis.). Joan of Arc. 21st Jan. The Aphis (B.I.F.). Lichtertanz
(Film Soc). Disney's Bears and Bees (United Artists). The General Line (Arcos).
nth Feb. Cotton Growing (B.I.F.). Reiniger's Harlequin (Film Soc). Uberfall
(Film Soc). En Natt (Film Soc). 25th Feb. Gathering Moss (B.I.F.). Touchdown
Mickey (G.-B. Dis.). Magicians Apprentice. Heart of an Indian Maid. Disney's King
Neptune (United Artists). Un Soir de Rafie.

OXFORD UNIVERSITY FILM SOCIETY. Zut's Cartoon (Film Soc).
Pudovkin's Deserter (Film Soc). 4th Feb. Power (Zenifilms). Tonende Handschrift
(Film Soc). Mickey's Mellerdramer (United Artists). Hunted People (Film Soc).
1 8th Feb. The Toymaker's Dream (a 1900 cartoon and puppet film). Great Line
Fishing (G.P.O.). Schufftan Process Film (Process Productions;. Disney's Fox
Hunt (G.-B. Dis.;. La Malernelte 1 Film Soe.j. 4th Mar. Kings English (B.I.F.).
King Neptune (United Artists), Ideal Cinemagazine (G.-B Dis.). Disney's Autumn
(G.-B. Dis.). Joyless Street.

SOUTHAMPTON FILM SOCIETY. 21st Jan.. Eyes of Science. Pacific 231
(Film Soc). Frollicking Fish (G.-B. Dis.). Der Hauptmann von Koepenick (Film Soc).
4th Feb. The Changing Tear (Pathe). Building a Building United Artists). The
Fourteenth of July (Film Soc). 18th Feb. Brumes DWutomne (Film Soc.). Tonende
Handschrift (Film Soc). The R»ad to Life (Arcos). 4th Mar. Mor-Vran Film Soc).
Le Loup Garou (W. & P.). Birds in Spring (United Artists).

SOUTH WALES FILM SOCIETY. This new body hopes to arrange per-
formances and lectures on the lines of other societies, and also to give sub-standard,
exhibitions in country villages. The Hon. Sec. is 1). Evans, Llwyn Onn. Masons
Road, Gorseinon, Glam.

193

THE

INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER

Official Organ of The Independent Film-Makers Association

— ^=IFMA

IFMA SUMMER SCHOOL

(/J ON A WEEK-END at the end of July or early in August

Q£ a band of enthusiastic film amateurs will gather in the heart

i— i—l of the country to discuss films and learn the fundamentals of

J^ the art under the guidance of some of the best film-makers

*^£ in this country.

LU

Q

5'

NOTABLE DIRECTORS who hope to attend and dispense
the wisdom of their experience, include Anthony Asquith,
Andrew Buchanan, John Grierson, Stuart Legg and Paul
Rotha.

ONE will take out a working party.

ONE will show a film of his own and talk about it.
ANOTHER will criticise members' films. And so on.

IT IS hoped to arrange for the School to be held near some
important operation, such as quarrying, which will provide
a suitable subject for filming.

SEVERAL IMPORTANT FILMS WILL BE SCREENED DURING
THE WEEK-END.

ALL IFMA members wishing to attend the Summer School
should communicate immediately with the Hon. Sec. G. A.
Shaw, 32 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, W.l.

NON-MEMBERS are eligible to attend on paying a small
supplementary fee.

• DO NOT MISS THIS UNIQUE EXPERIENCE.

PRODUCTION FOR AMATEURS

CHOOSING A SUBJECT

ANDREW BUCHANAN

Sometimes brilliant technicians select the most unsuitable subjects
for their productions, and, quite naturally, there are others who
possess a genius for selecting good subjects, but are unable to
produce them adequately. So much depends upon the individual
and his circumstances that no hard-and-fast rules can be laid down
on this most difficult and fundamental matter.

However, the first advice I would give is to remember your
medium and its demand for Movement. Secondly, that Movement
is created both by the action taking place in shots, and also by the
relation of a series of shots, one to the other. By the latter method,
a number of shots of static images can be given movement by the
skill of the cutter. Perhaps it seems elementary to ask an enthusiastic
student of the film to remember Movement, but it is surprising how
it is lost sight of when one is engrossed in filming a subject and
encounters, at every turn, something unexpected, that is irresistible
but totally unnecessary, which will probably upset one's cutting
plans.

The documentary film is of primary importance, but one must
arrive at that conclusion by logical reasoning and experience. Other-
wise, to be filled at the outset with an intense desire to make
documentaries means that one will probably copy characteristics of
those who have succeeded, and consequently the individuality of
the producer will fail to express itself fully, through having been
preoccupied in striving to live up to certain standards set by others.
Also, please eliminate from the mind the word "raw." Avoid "raw
material," and "life in the raw." It is inclined to be boring — and
inaccurate. Substitute the word "natural" for "raw."

Preliminaries over, I would urge the producer to plan his early
subjects so that they are composed chiefly of exteriors. If his
ambition extends to portraying fictional drama, make the setting in
the open air, as far as possible.

Next, I suggest to him to give his camera away for at least two
weeks, because his first job is to plan and produce his subject in his
mind, and the camera fills one with impatience to start shooting.
I would like to see him begin by making a film of the city, town, or
village in which he resides, and, however well he knows the neigh-

195

bourhood, he will, or should, find it quite a different place when he
approaches it with a view to portraying it on the screen. Instead of
rushing out and filming the High Street, the Curiosity Shop on the
corner, and shooting that dreadful pan from the weathercock on top
of the steeple to the porch of the church, let him consider, perhaps for
the first time, what it is that creates a certain character — atmosphere
— about the place. Why is Swindon so different from Canterbury?
Birmingham from Torquay? There is something more than sea or
no sea, trains or cathedrals. The characters of the residents reflect
that something; the shops, and the things they sell. That " something '*
must be captured, and that is why I suggested the camera should
be locked away for two weeks, until the producer has discovered
what it is, and how to portray it. If the atmosphere of the past
pervades the place, pictorial reference must be made to it. Why do
those craft-workers, in the narrow street under the shadow of the
cathedral, fit in so perfectly there. How out of place they would
seem spinning next to vast engine sheds. Imagine rows and rows
and rows of tiny depressing houses running past the walls of the
cathedral. They "don't belong." Unfortunately, they are in their
rightful place, framing vast locomotive shops. Watch the faces of
workers in the one town, and the other. Estimate the different tempo
of living. In rone street a horse dozes. In another it would cause
chaotic traffic blocks. What dominates or influences life in Torquay
that is so different from Birmingham? Holidays and work? Some-
thing more than that.

Along such lines I would plan the scenario in my mind. Certainly
I should film the High Street and the crooked cottages, but only if
they were real contributions to the story — if they built up the
character — atmosphere — soul, call it what you will, of the place. Go
to Wales and feel the effect of the valleys ; to Scotland and experience
the stillness in the Highlands. Those who live there are used to
such things, but unconsciously they reflect the spirit of the localities
in a hundred ways which the camera can capture: the slowness of
their walk; beards; bent shoulders; facial expressions; how they
earn their livings — all are governed by their surroundings, and the
screen can vividly show this to be so. But is that kind of thing
enough? Is not a central theme a necessity? I believe the individual
can best answer that question, but, personally, I feel a theme is
essential, thereby closely linking the documentary to the fictional
film. In Wright's excellent The Country Comes to Town the inter-
relation of town and country is extremely fine, and consolidates the
whole film. The ending is brilliant. Crowds of city clerks hurry
over London's bridges to work. The scene dissolves into long shots
of fields and downs, and the commentary asks you to remember,
every time you watch city crowds, to see just beyond them the

196

country-side, upon which they depend for their health, and how the
sun and the fresh air and the pasture lands are brought to them in
dairy produce every morning. Here is another idea. If one lives
in London, make a subject of Edgware Road, from Marble Arch to
the old village of Edgware. The changes in character from Wi
to 2; from towering flats to narrow thoroughfares; extensive stores
to crowded stalls; and so on, to widening roads flanked by auto-
mobile factories; and still on, until rural surroundings gradually
creep in. I mention this as the story is ready-made, and all the
technical resources of the cameraman will be brought into play.

In conclusion, I would implore the producer to be as natural as
his material should be, and avoid being clever. Please do not shoot
telegraph poles sideways without a reason — if there could be one.
Fight against the desire to film that colossal power station merely
because you can obtain marvellous shots of the chimneys. Film the
power station because you want to relate its wonderful work. Shoot
a telephone normally. If you show it upside down, you must know
why. People who introduce unusual angles to emphasise particular
points, sometimes know what they are doing, and one enthuses over
their originality. But it is so terribly easy to shoot things like that
without knowing why. If you are filming Winchester, remember it
is quite a long walk from Moscow, and that the brilliant characterisa-
tion in many Russian films would be totally wrong if applied to your
story. I believe in studying the work of every producer everywhere,
and then going away and doing what I think is correct, but if I felt
I was merely copying what I have seen, I would throw my efforts
into the bin.

CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS NUMBER

RUDOLF ARNHEIM. Author of " Film." Now engaged on the
International Encyclopaedia of Cinematography.

ANDREW BUCHANAN. Producer of the Gaumont-British Maga-
zine, formerly 4known as Ideal Cinemagazine. Author of "Films:
the Way of the Cinema," and several novels.

ALBERTO CAVALCANTI. Director of En Rade and Rien que les
Hemes.

ERIC ELLIOTT. Author of "Anatomy of Motion Picture Art."

JOHN GRIERSON. G.P.O. Films producer. His Industrial
Britain is at present being widely shown throughout the country.

STUART LEGG. Director of The New Generation. One of the
G.P.O. Film Unit.

HUGH MagDIARMID. Author of "A Drunk Man Looks at the
Thistle," "Lenin," etc. His new volume of poems "Stony
Limits," will shortly be published by Gollancz.

MACK W. SCHWAB. Hollywood film critic.

197

TWO FILMS by W. H. GEORGE

These two 16 mm. sub-standard films, designed for use in the
classroom, are simple and unambitious, and, in this respect, contain
lessons for all amateur film-makers. Clouds and Rain begins with a
laboratory creation of clouds. It then goes out into the country to
describe types of cloud and the weather they create. The angles
have been chosen with imagination, though occasionally there is
unnecessary over-emphasis of angle. The exteriors are distinguished
by some of the loveliest photography yet seen on 16 mm. Filtering
has been used skilfully to bring out the different types of clouds.
In The Outer Isles, George used filters excessively, and although he
obtained lovely cloud effects (justified in Clouds and Rain), he lost the
action he was shooting on the ground.

Nevertheless these two films are noteworthy for their choice of
subject and their technique. After painful experiences of many early
efforts by amateurs, these films appear to be the product of real
thought. They are both available from the G.P.O. film library.

D. F. Taylor.

Glasgow Independent Film-makers Group, which has already
a membership of fifteen, intends to start production immediately
on a film of a documentary and experimental nature. Membership
of the Group will be limited to twenty-five. The Hon. Sec. is
D. Paterson Walker, 127 St. Vincent Street, Glasgow, C.2.

Studio accommodation is a difficult problem with most amateurs.
The Brondesbury Cine Society, however, is fortunate in having
premises of some 1400 square feet, with a lighting equipment of
nearly 25 kilowatts, which is available by special arrangement for
individual workers. Full particulars may be had from A. D. Frisch-
mann, 27 Mincing Lane, London, E.G.3. The Brondesbury Cine
Society, though mainly interested in film play production, has a
small circle of keen experimental workers.

• FILM BOOKS WANTED.— Film Till Now. Anatomy of Motion Picture Art.
All standard works. Abbey Book Shop, 3 South Street, St Andrews, where all books
reviewed in Cinema Quarterly may be purchased.

I F M A THE INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKERS ASSOCIATION

For all serious workers interested in the production of
Documentary, Experimental or Educational Films.

Advisers: Anthony Asquith, Andrew Buchanan, John Grierson,
Alan Harper, Stuart Legg, Paul Rotha, Basil Wright.

Write for a Hon. Sec, G. A. SHAW, 32 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, W.l.

Prospectus.

i98

Your Booking Difficulties

SOLVED!

• One of the greatest problems which lace
organisers of cinema performances in connection
with film societies, clubs, institutes, schools, etc.,
is to know how to obtain the films they want :
where to apply lor them : how much they cost.

• To overcome this difficulty CINEMA QUAR-
TERLY has established a central organisation,
with direct \\ ardour Street connections, which
will not only supply this information but will
carry out the necessary negotiations with the

appropriate renters.

• A vast amount of unnecessary correspondence
and labour will by this means be avoided — to the
relief both of exhibiting societies and trade dis-
tributors.

• CINEMA QUARTERLY makes no charge
for this new service which is intended as a con-
venience both to readers and to the trade,
through whose regular channels all bookings will
be arranged.

The only stipulation is that all enquiries must be accompanied by
a stamped and addressed envelope.

CINEMA QUARTERLY
FILM SERVICE

24 N.W. THISTLE STREET LANE

EDINBURGH, 2

Telegrams: TRICOLOUR, EDINBURGH

,USE,

THE "SEESTU" 9/5

mm

SUPER FILM SERVICE!

• •••••

Every Film Guaranteed Perfect

All the Latest Releases to be had first
from us. Rates 1 - per reel per day

COMPLETE LIST OF RATES SENT FREE

The ' SEESTU ' is the finest Film Library
in Scotland

DON'T FORGET THE ADDRESS

G.& J. GLASGOW

39 CAUSEYSIDE STREET

PHONE 4033 PAIoLbY POST FREE

THE REGENT LITERARY SERVICE

Cambridge Graduate (B.A. Hons. English
Literature) will correct MSS. and prepare
scenarios for production. Literary revision
of all kinds expertly dealt with. Typing
and translations undertaken.

12 REGENT STREET, S.W.I.

Telephone
Whitehall 2265

SIGHT

AND

SOUND

J. Campbell Harper

a.r.p.s.

PRODUCER of 16 m.m. Films for
Educational, Industrial, and Research
Board requirements.

•

AGENT and stockist for all leading
manufacturers, Siemens, Bell, Howell,
Kodak, etc.

•

Our Title-Making service, whether plain,
animated, or multiple exposure, is more
reasonable in cost yet of better quality
than obtainable elsewhere.

131-135 LEITH WALK
EDINBURGH, 6

'phone Leith 38

VISIT THE GREAT
SOVIET FILM

STUDIOS

Special facilities arranged for tourists inter-
ested in films to visit some of the Soviet
Studios and to meet some of the best known
Soviet Producers. Inclusive rates from £22
London to London. Particulars from THOMAS
MURRAY, Scottish U.S.S.R. Society, 5 St
Bernard's Crescent, Edinburgh, 4.

A Quarterly Review
PRICE SIXPENCE

Special Features in the Spring Issue Now Ready:

R. S. LAMBERT — How to get the Films you want.
ERIC HAKIM — Specialized Cinema or Film Society ?
VINCENT KORDA— The Artist and the Film.
COL. L. W. HARRISON— The Film in Medical Edu-
cation.
F. EVANS — Sight and Sound in a Modern School.

Of Interest to all who desire the Cinematograph developed as a means of both Entertainment and Instruction

TECHNICAL AND TRADE—

The Cinema on Sunday. Automatic Cameras.

Safety Films and Safety Regulations

Films of the Quarter. Documentary Films.

News from Film Societies.

Sub-Standard Projections.

Records of the Quarter. Books to Read. Etc.

PUBLISHED BY THE BRITISH FILM INSTITUTE

Telephone :
Museum 0607/8

General Manager: J. W. BROWN. Secretary: R. V. CROW.

4 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, LONDON, W.C.I

Telephone :
Museum 0607/8

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"ARTIOM"

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1934 ANNUAL

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Write to the Publisher for Free Specimen Copy

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DOCUMENTS 34

Directeur:— STEPHANE CORDIER, 6 rue Gabrielle, BRUXELLES

u Documents 33-34" paraitra desormais trimestriellement en cahiers de 80 a
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d'unite telle qu'ils feront figure de numeros speciaux.

Les quatre numeros de " Documents 34-35 " paraitront aux dates suivantes :
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CINEMA
QUARTERLY

CONTENTS

THE SPECTATOR. Norman Wilson. . .203

THE FUNCTION OF THE DIRECTOR. Berthold

Viertel 206

PRODUCTION METHODS IN SOVIET RUSSIA.

1 1 d<.n Schoeni . . . . .210

THE G.P.O. GETS SOUND. John Grierson . 215

STAGE PEOPLE AND FILM THINGS. C. R. Jones 222

RAMPANT REFORMERS. Eric M. Knight. . 227

FILMING IN CEYLON. Basil Wright . . 231

ACTIVITY IN BELGIUM. Ludo Patris . . 233

MISCELLANY. Mack W. Schwab, G. F. Dalton 237

FILMS OF THE QUARTER. Ralph Bond.
Forsyth Hardy, J 'a it I Rot ha. D. F.
Taylor . . . . . .240

FILM SOCIETIES 254

THE INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER. Films to

Music. G. R. Clark . . . .256

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THE SPECTATOR

WHERE ARE WE GOING?

Sooner or later the finer significances of cinema art and purpose
must be resolved and their true relationships established. Mean-
while all of us, critics and craftsmen alike, talk glibly of evolving
technique without any clear idea of what we want to do with
cinema, what we want to make it say once we know how. All the
talk of film being still in its infancy is so much nonsense — a cowardly
deceit to cover our wretched incompetence. Young in years the
cinema may be, but it has already achieved ample maturity, with
everything needful to produce the dreamed-of masterpieces. But
where are they ?

What excuse can we offer for their absence ? The trade . . .
the moguls of the box-office . . . the cost of production . . .
censorship. Effete aesthetes may vent their imprecations in a
wild hysteria, but they are as far from the truth as they are from
practicalities. Nor need the producers blame the public, who
may refuse but never demand. Reformers may rant and rave,
but the masses, by and large, like their pleasures highly spiced.
And when an august Governor of the British Film Institute believes
it to be " not a bad thing " that the passions and emotions " thus
find an outlet vicariously " — why should the trade worry ?

The film industry lives up to its name, of which it has no reason
to be either proud or ashamed. It exists to make money, as much
as possible in the soonest possible time. It deceives nobody on this
score, least of all itself. But while as a business proposition it may
employ artists it has little concern with the production of art as a
medium of expressions. Its use for art is to sell more and more
miles of celluloid. And if it is not the art you want, says the trade,
it sells our films and we pay plenty for it. Thus the principal object
of censure casts the blame elsewhere.

And so the guilty game of pitch and toss goes on. Let us put an
end to it forthwith. Let us be honest with ourselves and admit

403

the guilt. For it is we who are to blamed We — the craftsmen, the
workers, the so-called artists, the creators of cinema. And we —
the critics, the guiders, the moulders of taste. We between us must
stand condemned, for not only are we getting nowhere — we have
not yet made up our minds where we want to go. Other people
may stand in our way and oppose, but the urge to progress must
be within ourselves.

First of all we must make up our minds as to whether there can
be any ultimate or even opportunate reconciliation between the
dictates of art and the aims of commercialism. Can the film become
a genuine collective art instead of a battle of divergent ideas and
conflicting personalities ? Or must the individual assert himself
and by the power of his own creative impulse achieve an artistic
unity out of elements which now oppose each other ?

Is it the critic's function merely to surface comment on the
meaningless confectionery of films which do no more than titilate
the senses ? Or is he to expose the shams and attack the funda-
mental weaknesses of a medium which ought to be capable of moving
the mind and stirring the emotions of mankind ?

How many films during the past year have attempted to say
anything, laudable or otherwise ? And how many films of thematic
imbecility have been praised exhorbitantly for their superficial
elegance ? It may be no part of the critic's task to tell the artist
what he ought to do, but as well as stimulating the appreciation
and enlarging the comprehension of the spectator, the critic's
evaluation, if a considered judgment of synthesis and comparison,
can have a salutary effect on the sources of creation. Temperamental
camera-work, counterpoint sound, dynamic cutting — all mean
nothing if what they say is not worth saying.

Under the present system of production, which hands out theme
and scenario with little or no option, the director who wishes to
retain his self-respect feels justified in repudiating all claims of an
artist's responsibility in conception. Few, however, are prepared
to surrender any part of the credit in a film's success. Yet, apart
from Pabst, how many of the much lauded ace directors have had
the courage to demand conditions of work which would allow them
freedom of expression ? If they were as big as their reputations
they could command their own terms. But they are afraid. Not
of the studio chiefs or their corporate employers — but of them-
selves. Given freedom of expression they would remain dumb or
continue to turn out travesties like The Scarlet Empress. They have
nothing to say. The vaunted directors, aping the stars in the mag-
nitude of their self-esteem, are but clever virtuosos — the fiddlers
who play the tune. Only there is no Beethoven, no Mozart, not
even a Franz Lehar for them to interpret. What they have to

204

bring to life is the tattered corpse of an idea riven by the paltry
minds of departmental heads and mangled at the hands of box-office
accountants.

Cinema has not yet produced the creative artist who has some-
thing to say, can work out his theme, script it, direct it and edit
it. Even Russia has found few of its esteemed directors able to
evolve a theme or construct a scenario worthy of the technique
for which they are justly famous. That is why Soviet writers have
had to be called in to the cinema's aid. Elsewhere in these pages
Berthold Viertel pleads eloquently for a similar move to be made
in this country, and pending the emergence of the creative director
proper, the removal of the scenario hacks from the studios would
undoubtedly be a step in the right direction, and might allow a
new spirit to permeate into production. But there are also many
other obstacles which must be overcome if the commercial studios
are to turn out satisfying entertainment, let alone art. Photography,
sound, design, editing, each assume an importance in the eyes of
their exponents disproportionate to their real significance in relation
to the film as a whole. That these " comic barriers " can be broken
down and each specialized worker made to serve in rational sub-
servience to a controlling, creative intelligence, John Grierson has
abundantly proved in the modest seclusion of Blackheath.

It is significant that men like Grierson, Flaherty, Rotha, have
chosen documentary in preference to studio work. Because it is
produced under saner and freer conditions and is generally the
conception of a single mind, documentary is the one species of
film which achieves a unity approaching artistic satisfaction. In
this respect it is to be regretted that Man of Aran is not the successor
to Tabu and Nanook of the North that had been anticipated, for it
represents an important experiment on the part of a commercial
company in financing an independent film-maker to produce a
picture according to his own ideas. In sponsoring Flaherty, Gaumont
British created a precedent which it is hoped will be a forerunner
of an established policy, for only the success of the commercially
sponsored, independently produced reality film will ever induce
the industry to consider introducing a similar system in the studios.
Memories of Eisenstein and Stroheim, and a knowledge of their
present personnel, may make America nervous of further experi-
ment, but producers in this country, not yet hide-bound by tradition,
must be persuaded to give the artist who has something to say full
freedom of expression.

Not till then can cinema take its destined place in the forefront
of the arts.

Norman Wilson.

205

THE FUNCTION
OF THE DIRECTOR

2. THE STUDIO DIRECTOR

BERTHOLD VIERTEL

Laymen with no insight into picture making do not know what a
director does. I do not think it bad that they should not know, for
when the performance is so perfect that the director is not noticed he
may well be pleased with himself. But one is so often asked about it.
Audiences get an impression, sometimes an overwhelming one, of the
importance of a conductor, because they see him with their own eyes
directing the orchestra. This impression is stamped on their minds,
although the conductor's actions may be no more than a show. The
more effective the show the greater their personal conviction of his
importance. They do not realize that the difference between a
Toscanini and a Furtwangler is a result of painstaking rehearsals.

At the theatre, the audience is left more in the dark. It is rather
embarrassing to see a gentleman in a dress suit appear after the
performance ; people, if they are not hardened first nighters, whisper
to each other: "Who is this man? Is he the author? What is he?"
Actually, on the legitimate stage, the importance of the director
varies tremendously. Between the technician who regulates the
machinery and the interpreter who penetrates the work of a genius,
recreating it in flesh and blood, or the man who changes the play
during rehearsals, there are many degrees. But fundamentally, no
matter who is directing, the situation on the legitimate stage is this :
before the first rehearsal starts, the director is usually given a com-
plete play ; between these printed words and the personality of an
actor which develops during a situation on the stage, between these
two existing elements there is still an immense space for creation.

What a director creates lies not only in the atmosphere of the
whole, in the bringing together of all individuals until they are
shaped into one family, until they have the structure of one world :
he not only creates what we may call the style of the whole per-
formance which is expressed in every detail down to the smallest
point, not only composes the action and translates the vision which
he got from the work into pictorial reality, as costumes, sets and the
like: but is called upon to cope with the thousand little problems
which are continually cropping up, each one with a thousand
different solutions. The stage, like life itself, is overflowing with

206

immediate needs for immediate decisions. No matter how
much each helper and each personality connected with the work
spends his own gifts, the centre of all this little world is depen-
dent on the sensitivity, the mind and the judgment of the one man
who not only represents the writer and actors, but who is also the
first audience; who, by sitting in front of the stage and watching from
without what happens thereon, is able to jump in at any moment and
keep good things alive, cut off a wrong movement, increase the
general enthusiasm and make everyone work strictly to the great
purpose. It is an obvious paradox that a fool who sits before the
stage may be wiser than a genius acting on it who, by being a part of
the play, becomes an object over which he loses command. What
makes the real director is an imagination which unites these various
elements, these countless kaleidoscopic details into one complete
whole. No matter whether it be by love or by strictness, harsh words
or soft, the real director's spirit must, above all things, encourage.
He must give impulses and respond to impulses, he must be at once
active and passive. A man may be an excellent critic, have a great
analytical mind, know everything about a play, about acting and the
stage, and not be an able director because he misses the positiveness
which keeps things going. A very simple man, not at all highly
educated, may have much more warmth and life to spend, may be
endowed to a far greater extent by that all-important gift, a com-
bining instinct.

In the cinema, between the director and the completed film,
there is a vast and complicated machinery. First he has to translate
everything he sees into photography which changes something seen
with natural eyesight into something new and different. This tech-
nical means of transferring the things you see in nature on to a two-
dimensional screen is further complicated, now that pictures talk,
by the machinery of sound. A second mechanical world has sprung
to life, completing the whole technique and opening up endless
possibilities which have yet to be explored. Apart from the necessity
of dealing with these technical contrivances and using them as a
means of creation, a director must be able to divide his future picture
from the start into little particles of a kaleidoscope, create them
separately one after the other, always bearing in mind the final
unity. This also concerns the actor; he is never in a position to
follow at will the flux of an action, but is forced to do particles of a
scene jerked out of continuity. In order that the actor may give as
much of himself as on the legitimate stage, he is put at the mercy of
the director who alone has the whole film continuously in his mind
and must control every mood, every detail which, thrown apart as
they are, must ultimately fit together.

^207

But these special conditions of filming originate in the script,
which has already been built up as a kind of architecture of technical
details which no writer could really imagine and which are definitely
left to the mind of the man who has to produce them on the floor.
Thus the activity of the film director starts as soon as an idea is
ready to be developed into a moving picture. Only a few writers
with special directorial gifts have developed the faculty to think in
moving picture continuity.

Usually the process starts in this way; a subject is chosen and is
talked over, not in continuity, but analytically, as a lawyer discusses
a case with his client. It is a general handling of ideas which belong
to the picture, whence develops a unity of action which is built up
into scenes and made to flow smoothly in a continuous direction.
Every picture is a machine which has to be built consistently,
each shot must be linked indissolubly to the next. When at last a
continuous scenario is developed the scenes are broken down into
shots. If this final shooting script is the work of another mind, it is
impossible for any creative director to adhere to it, however com-
pletely it may have been worked out. In practice, on the floor, he
will so often be forced to change the viewpoint.

To augment these difficulties pictures are produced by an
industry. This industry is very unlike the legitimate stage: it does
not wait for writers to come to its doors, who have something to
express, who want to deliver a message of their hearts, of their minds,
which they have developed during sleepless nights. The legitimate
stage lives on the messages of people who have carried their subjects
in their hearts, maturing them perhaps throughout many years.
The moving picture industry gives orders. The moving picture
industry collects subjects and makes writers work on them, within a
rigid time limit. There is little space left for organic growth from
within, the work must be done rather under the conditions of
enforced labour, and all progress is watched and supervised by special
experts. The industry is in a growing process of mechanization and
division of labour. For every part of the picture a department is
responsible. This department is not concerned with a single picture
like a writer who sits meditating in his room. America, as the most
industrial country of the world, as the country of mechanization and
rationalization of labour, goes on mechanizing picture work. No
longer is the director supposed to cut his own picture, although the
process of cutting which I have not yet mentioned is the final com-
pletion of the film, a last sifting, an ultimate creation of the material.
An enormously complicated system of departments, split into a
multitude of human beings, reaches without interruption into the
creative process, each in its own field destroying every unity of mood,

208

putting grave obstacles against the singleminded conception of one
man. To anyone who watches the process, it seems almost impos-
sible for one man to hold all these elements together with unity as
an aim and still, at the end, to have produced a work intact and
single in purpose.

This is why original messages so seldom reach the screen. The
American industry is enormously efficient at producing high-
frequency film machines. It is at its best when using robust themes
in those matter-of-fact stories on which it pours sentimentality as a
pastry cook pours icing on a cake. This sounds rather an
annihilating verdict. Nevertheless I admire the vitality of quite a
few of these pictures, which contain, apart from striking detail, a
victorious wittiness, and are, so many of them, technically perfect.
As the aim of the picture industry is the entertainment of masses,
this aim can be reached by mechanized methods. But one should not
forget that pictures have not only to entertain the masses, but must
give them their mental daily bread. These two different aims must
be approached by two different methods. The one, a strict use of
mechanization, the other, a humanization of mechanics. Among the
hundreds of pictures produced in a year in America, only eight or
ten break through with an original message. But these eight or ten
pictures are undoubtedly international masterpieces which advance
film making throughout the world. Directors who are able to deliver
these messages at the end, after all those instances of obstruction,
until the assembly of distributors who so often decide the ultimate
fate of pictures, have to be built like heavyweight champions. But
they must be heavyweight champions who have not lost their tender-
ness of heart or their distinctiveness of vision. Even on the legitimate
stage a lot of practical work has to be done in order to bring poetry to
life. In pictures the practical work becomes the task of a giant.

Things are in this respect a good deal easier in Britain. The
British industry, growing up and developing visibly from day to day,
is, of course, following the American methods, but as yet more
gently, while Europe to a certain extent puts up a resistence to mass
production, still preferring home-made goods. Although it is tech-
nically more difficult, and the organization is not so highly developed,
it is easier to deliver a personal message here. What I would like to
fight for is that this chance should be used to a greater extent, that
more and more pictures should be done which have something to say
before they try to say it.

That is at bottom the question of the script. Being passionately
both a writer and a director and believing in pictures as a creative
means, I insist that I would very much like to improve the position of
the kind of writer who writes for films, not only because they pay

209

him more money but because they give him a means of expression.
To find these people, to encourage them, to introduce them to film
technique, is my ambition. There is an urgent need for film writers
who can develop as did our best dramatists. There I believe lies the
vital source of film improvement and the future of the talking picture
which till now has taken no more than the first few steps to conquer
its enormous possibilities.

PRODUCTION METHODS

IN SOVIET RUSSIA

HELEN SCHOENI

The film industry in Soviet Russia is a child of the revolution. It
came into being during the stormy years of the new regime and has
developed into one of the chief purveyors of propaganda. Lenin
saw in the new-born art a graphic means of educating the vast
hordes of illiterate peasants in the ways of Marxian dialectic. With
its raison d'etre defined for it at the outset, all that remained for the
industry was to develop along the lines which would make it a com-
pelling force in the education of the workers and widespread in its
influence.

Since it drew its first breath in a land where the first person singular
possessive pronoun was anathema, and all industries were under the
government aegis, the issues of competition, money making and
personality plus were a priori impossibilities. It is not surprising
then that the film industry is organised under a central kino bureau,
which is virtually a minor commissariat, called the State Cine Photo
Department, or Gukf. This amalgamation and centralization of all
the branches of production, distribution, and exhibition, is for the
purpose of attaining efficiency, a close censorship and control of
policy by the government, and the concentration and arrangement
of output necessary to place films within the reach of the largest
number of consumers.

The policy of film production in the Soviet Union, as defined by
Gukf, is to establish a cheap cinema for all, that would serve all,
and in doing this keep alive the desire for liberation, and to encourage

210

co-operation in the task of defending and rebuilding Russia. In the
accomplishment of this task their aim is to manufacture raw film
stock and, so far as possible, keep it "all Russian," to increase home
industry and decrease unemployment. The present Russian raw
film is vastly inferior to the European import of panchromatic stock
which was used in many of their past films. This temporary handicap
will be overcome in due time, but it is a serious drawback to the
industry at present.

The general subject matter for film treatment has, of necessity,
been dictated by the revolution and the dicta of the Five Year Plans.
All scenarios must pass the censorship board of the central committee
of Gukf. In this way all counter-revolutionary material or ' ' bour-
geois" outlooks can be nipped in the bud. A "plan" can be carried
out and a balanced diet of films can be governed at the outset. No
tidal waves of gangster films or costume plays sweep over the Soviet
movie-going public as they do elsewhere. Accompanying each
scenario submitted to Gufk must be a questionnaire which gives the
name of the scenario; the author; which studio is apt to produce it;
what it is likely to cost; when it will be released for showing; from
what sort of material the scenario is drawn (Eisenstein in submitting
his scenario October to Gukf wrote in answer to this question:
"Revolutionary Utopia") ; and lastly, what the characteristics of the
scenario are. Referring again to October, Eisenstein wrote: "It films
the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution. The scenario
groups around the period from the February to the October Revolu-
tions. It is made from historic material. The scenario is calculated
to appeal to a wide worker and peasant audience."

The scenarios chosen for production by Gukf are assigned to the
different studios throughout Russia if arrangements have not already
been made by a studio to film a certain script. Many of the scenarios
in the past have been the work of directors in the employ of a studio.
In such cases the script is returned to its author for production.

The Soviet film studios, called Kino factories, are built on a
much more modest scale than the Hollywood or European film
plants. However, the new Sovkino plant in the Sparrow Hills, on the
outskirts of Moscow, boasts of possessing the largest sound studio in
the world as well as a huge tank for the filming of acquatic scenes.
Here under one roof will be the large sound stage, two smaller sound-
proofed studios, offices for directors and technicians, a laboratory for
the development of films and a small pre-view room, a restaurant,
make-up rooms, storehouses, workshops, etc., all connected so that
studio workers need not bundle up in going from one place to another
during the severe winters.

The more modest Mejrabpom Studio, in the heart of Moscow, can
boast of having in its employ such directors of note as Ozep, Kules-

211

hov, Protosanov, Alexandrov and Bela Belacz. Cramped for space
and handicapped by insufficient technical devices they have managed
to produce many of the most outstanding films to come out of
Russia. It is here that Kuleshov recently made The Great Consoler,
a film based on Upton Sinclair's biography of O. Henry's two years
in prison.

Each studio works on what is known as a one year plan of pro-
duction. Of the scripts assigned to them by Gukf scarcely more than
fifty per cent, are filmed in the allotted time. Being under no com-
pulsion of competing in a saturated market, and labouring under no
long-term contracts with high salaried " stars," the studios work with
a leisureliness that would make an American producer fancy himself
on holiday. The average time spent on a film ranges from eight
months to a year. Many of the epic films of the past have extended
over two and three years. This seeming geologic sense of time is
partly explained by the fact that all work on location must be done
during the summer months as the severity of the winter, coupled with
the rainy fall, makes outdoor work an impossibility for the greater
proportion of the year. With the advent of sound films and a growing
tendency away from "films of the land" more work is being done in
the studios and a larger output is resulting.

From the scripts submitted to a studio a director is free to choose
the one he wishes to work on. Here there is none of the capitalistic
system of assigning a director to a script which he often feels is an
insult to his intelligence and taste. Directors work on a monthly
salary basis. The wage scale is flexible and varies with the fame and
talent of the director. Salaries range from 400 to 1,200 roubles a
month. Eisenstein receives a monthly salary of 1,200 roubles, while
his former assistant, Alexandrov, received 800. If the director is also
the author of the scenario he receives the outright sale price for the
script as well as a percentage of the box-office intake at each showing
of the film in all movie houses. The amount paid for a script again
varies according to the fame of its author and its significance as a
theme and the excellence of its treatment. The amounts paid for
long feature films range from 1,000 to 10,000 roubles. Eisenstein is
reported to have sold his recent scenario, M.M.M., for 30,000
roubles. All box-office intake nets the director one per cent while
the author receives one and a half per cent of the totals.

Once the director has chosen his scenario he is free to choose his
camera-man, technicians and assistants from the regular staff of
studio employees. He is likewise given carte blanche in casting. The
sole restriction placed upon him is in the matter of the cost of the
production. Once the estimated cost has been approved by Gukf
he is bound to remain within this budget. An administrator or
financial manager is assigned to him by the studio head and he works

212

with the director to keep within the bounds of reason and handles
all the money outlays. The cost of making films range from 500,000
roubles to a million.

Each studio maintains a staff of "second line" actors on their
pay-roll. It is understood that a director will use these actors where-
ever it is possible but he is never compelled to utilize them at the cost
of obvious miscasting, as is often the case in Hollywood. He is free
to get his actors from whatever source he chooses. Because of the
leisurely pace at which the studios work, high salaried actors are
seldom found in the studio but are engaged from the legitimate
theatres when needed. Moskvin and Bataloff, both of the Moscow
Art Theatre, are two outstanding artists who have been called in to
create notable roles in films of the past. Actors invited to work on a
film are given contracts for a single film. They are paid on the
monthly salary basis. They aggregate as much as 30,000 roubles on
a picture thus made.

The "second line" or supporting feature players, as we call them,
receive a monthly salary ranging from 300 to 600 roubles. When a
special type is needed which the studio is not able to supply from
their staff of actors a director is free to go out into the highways and
byways to find him. A "real" peasant, a burly prizefighter type of
workman or a former aristocrat, in need of extra money, are able in
this way to earn fifteen roubles a day. In the case of mob scenes, such
as those which figured so prominently in Eisenstein's Battleship
Potemkin, the people are regimented to give their services free as one
of their contributions to the state.

Once a film is shot the director spends the ensuing weeks or
months in the editing and cutting of his film. One need not go into a
discussion here of the principles of montage and creative editing
which have grown out of the Russian system. To the readers of
Cinema Quarterly the ingenuity and artistic results gained by this post-
shooting study of filmic material is an old story. It remains only to
be said that all Russian film directors edit their own film. Many of
them look upon this period as their most creative contribution to the
film's total effect.

The Soviet film is the work of one man, and his assistants wrho are
fulfilling his plans. To have seventeen people mull over a scenario,
whipping it into shape, filling it full of "sure-fire gags" and cliches is
unthinkable in the Soviet film industry. If a film is a hodge-podge
and misses fire the blame can rightfully be laid at the door of the
director.

Once the film has been pre-viewed and released from the studio
it is sent to the central distribution bureau, quaintly called by the
Russians the "Let Out On Hire Bureau." From this bureau the
exhibitor can choose what films he will show to his patrons. There is

213

no problem of high-pressure advertising to outsell one's competitor
in a glutted market. There is no question of accepting insultingly
inferior films in order to gain one good product in a "block" of films
produced by a studio.

The only advertising carried on is done in the newspapers, on
the kiosks and modest billboards distributed at focal points through-
out the city, or by displays outside the theatre where the picture is
showing. The marque carries the name of the film rather than our
familiar 'star." On the programme the names of the director,
musician, cameraman and actors all get equal emphasis. This type
of advertisement, or more properly announcement, is indicative of
the Communist attitude toward theatre-going. Some are intrigued
by the title of the film, others by the scenarist's fame, others go
because they have attached a director's name with a certain quality,
others go to see a favourite actor create a new role. Whatever the
reasons may be, the fact remains the theatres are always crowded.

There are no continuous showings in Russia. A film is run
through for one audience. The house is emptied, aired and then a
new group comes in to see it. " Chasers" are an unknown phenome-
non in the Soviet kino. While a gathering audience awaits the
opening of the doors into the main auditorium they are entertained
in the foyer. The programmes vary from a symphony concert to
chamber music, a popular soloist or a dancer performing, as the
people sit or stroll quietly about or drink tea in the nearby cafe.

With a growing leniency in the subject matter of the more recent
films, which include a greater number possessing a universal appeal,
it is not too much to predict that the Soviet studios will become dan-
gerous rivals to other producing countries. It is conceivable that
there will be an exodus of our writers, directors and actors to where
originality, artistic integrity and freedom for creative work maintain.

FILMS AND MUSIC

A chapter in Constant Lambert's lively, lucid and witty study of
modern music, "Music Ho!" (London: Faber. ios. 6d.) is devoted
to mechanical music and the cinema and for once we have a serious
and sympathetic examination of music in films by a composer. In
spite of its ephemeral nature, he considers that the film is the only
art whose progress is not at the moment depressing to watch. Films,
he thinks, "have the emotional impact for the twentieth century that
operas had the nineteenth. Pudovkin and Eisenstein are the true
successors of Mussorgsky, D. W. Griffiths is our Puccini, Cecil B.
de Mille our Meyerbeer, and Rene Clair our Offenbach." Though
he mis-spells Al Jolson's name, Lambert shows in his other references
that he knows well the films he is writing about and his experience
is that "the film is the most vigorous art form of to-day."

214

THE G.P.O. GETS SOUND

JOHN GRIERSON

I shall not, in this, attempt a theory of sound but merely record
the sudden possession of sound apparatus. The plaintive miracle
of this event, the learned but sometimes too hopeful followers of
cinema might note. Whatever one's theories, access to the means
of production is not easy for art. The apparatus costs three
thousand pounds or thereabouts ; the re-recording apparatus is a
luxury over and above that. This is the machine which orches-
trates the different elements of sound — the natural sounds, the
music, the dialogue — and, in effect, makes a considered sound strip
possible. Add to these purely engineering costs the cost of your sound
cameramen ; add the cost of orchestras at two guineas per instru-
ment per session of four hours ; add the cost of a created music.
Access to the means of production is clearly not a simple matter.
That we have found an economic basis for it in government propa-
ganda and, with it, have retained the same freedom for directors
we enjoyed with the E.M.B., represents a relief and thankfulness
I leave to the imagination.

We waited five years for sound at the E.M.B. We saw our
first film fall in the gulf between silence and sound, and our subse-
quent films pile up in silence on a fading market. Our solitary
access to sound last year was bound to be a disappointing one, for,
selling some films to G-B., we were reduced to attendant orchestra
and attendant commentator. Under such conditions responsibility
passed out of our hands and experiment was plainly impossible. The
result — in Industrial Britain, O'er Hill and Dale, Up Stream and the
others — was, I suppose, competent. From any considered point
of view it represented no contribution whatever to the art and
practice of sound.

By access to sound, I mean an intimate relation between the pro-
ducer and his instruments. I mean a relationship as direct as we have
established for him in the matter of camerawork. He is his own first
cameraman and the silly mystery with which professional cameramen
once surrounded their very simple box of tricks, is over and done
with. With us, the producer is his own sound man too, and in the
same simple sense. In the studio the old camera nonsense has

215

become attendant on the apparatus of sound. Mysterious bells
are rung, and rung as for some great religious ceremony. High
priests gabble in the same essential idiom as Thibetan priests over
their prayer wheel, and a dozen perfectly unnecessary, or perfectly
unimportant hangers-on, create atmosphere in the background.
To convince so many important young men that so far as pro-
duction is concerned they are only a bunch of chauffeurs who should
be driving the car where you want it to go, is obviously too difficult
for a mere documentary director. And it is probably not worth
his trouble. Other phalanxes of experts lie beyond : knowing
exactly — on one showing of your film and a couple of rehearsals —
what music you want. And with studio overheads — the hangers-on
nursing their overtime as religiously as their machines — any varia-
tion from the routine job is too expensive anyway.

By access to sound I mean the absolute elimination of
these comic barriers between the producer and the result he
wants. I mean the elimination of both economic and ideologic
overheads. At the G.P.O. we have established it from the beginning.
We have one sound engineer, and a good one. For the rest, if
we want music — and we do not want it much — we find it cheaper
to have it written for us. If we want natural sound, the producer
drives out and gets it. If we want to orchestrate sound we sit in
the sound van and arrange the re-recording as we think best.
If we want to play with sound images, or arrange choral effects,
or in any way experiment, we have no one's permission to ask and
no considerable overheads to worry about, because we do most
of the work ourselves. We are even free, as on one occasion recently,
to make our own orchestra. The instruments and players were
as follows. One rewinder (Legg), one trumpet, two typewriters
(office staff), one empty beer bottle (blown for a ship's siren), one
projector (by the projectionist), some conversation, two pieces of
sand paper (Elton), the studio silence bell (myself), cymbals and
triangle (Wright). Walter Leigh arranged and conducted. The
result was our title music for 6. 30 Collection. It cost us the hire
of the trumpet.

Indeed it is remarkable that our experiments have all made
for cheaper sound. It costs five pounds, I believe, to have a pro-
fessional commentator, but we have never thought of spending so
much on so little. We do the job ourselves if we want a commentary,
and save both the five pounds and the quite unendurable detach-
ment of the professional accent. Better still, if we are showing
workmen at work, we get the workmen on the job to do their own
commentary, with idiom and accent complete. It makes for in-
timacy and authenticity, and nothing we could do would be half
so good. You will see the result in both Cable Ship and

216

Under the City. In 6.30 Collection — a highly symphonic account of
the Western District Sorting Office in London — Legg carried the
connective commentary. Natural noises and some odd conver-
sational scraps picked up by the microphone, told the rest of the
story. No music was used in this film. In Under the City, we had
music written for the beginning and the end and for a very beautiful
slow motion sequence of an opening cable. In Cable Ship we borrowed
some Mendelssohn to take a ship sentimentally to sea. The con-
tinuous undercurrent of music we have renounced. It was expensive,
and none of us knew what it was there for anyway. We leave it to
the less businesslike commercials.

These represent first variations and possibly not very important
ones. 6.30 Collection however, is probably the first documentary
made entirely with authentic sound. It was not of course, a case
of taking our sound anyhow. The noises of the sorting office were
to some extent orchestrated. The racket of the interior grew with
the increasing traffic. It swelled, it had lulls. It was broken by the
repeated call of the bagmen coming to empty more letters on the
facing tables, by the staccato machine-gun beat of the stamp-
cancelling machines, by the careful introduction of oddments of
conversation on allotments and this and that, by the choral effort
of the dispatch men calling the destination of their bags across half
the world, by a beautiful scrap of whistling. When the rush was
over and the litter was swept from the deserted and now silent
tables, we synchronized the swish of the brushes and crossed the
sound of a starting train. And on the train and the ship and the
aeroplane which followed, we crossed the chorus of destinations
across half the world, repeated in its authentic monotone.

I do not pretend these are other than beginnings in the use of
sound, but I feel they are right beginnings. I noticed when we
showed the film at the Phoenix in London, that the natural noises
and the overheard comments, orders, calls and conversations,
created a new and curious relationship between the audience and
the screen. The distance was broken down in a certain intimate
delight — I presume — at seeing strangers so near. Eavesdropping,
who knows, may yet be one of the pillars of our art. There was
one superb sequence that we could not use. A dispatchman,
edging unwittingly up to the microphone, loosed his more private
opinion of some new and officious supervisor. The vocabulary was
limited, but the variations were ingenious.

What we shall call the crossing of sound, to save the more
difficult mention of asynchronism, is obviously a first consideration
even in such simple experiments. There was a dilemma in the
making of Cable Ship, for we began and ended on the same trucking
shot of the International Telephone Exchange, to which our cable

217

story related. As the first shot passed from one foreign switchboard
to another, it was synchronized with telephone patter in the different
languages involved. But to repeat this at the end would, we felt,
be very ordinary, for the cable story had added other, less obvious,
sounds to the patter of languages. Behind them were cable ships
searching for faults, grappling for cables, mending them. The
second time, we synchronized with the sound of a navigation order
on the bridge of a ship, the order repeated, the ship's telegraph rung.
Someone has just told me that he heard thirty years ago a discourse
on flight, in which the lecturer maintained that the secret of bird
flight lay not in the feathers, but in the air-spaces between the
feathers. This I think, will serve very well for a working definition
of the art of sound. The spaces between are the incidental sounds
which, in a species of imagery, give perspective.

In our B.B.C. film and Savings Bank film, there will be, I hope,
more mature developments. At one point in 6.30 Collection, we
thought of introducing the voices of the letters as they passed along
the conveyor belt. We bought, in Woolworth's, a sixpenny book
on " letter writing for all occasions," and had a mind to build up
a rigmarole of excerpts from business letters, love letters, coy letters,
angry letters, desperate letters, vain letters ; but the trick was
finally reserved. In the Savings Bank film, we shall probably put
it into effect, and for better reason. The Savings Bank is probably
the finest example of mechanized clerking in the country. It is a
wilderness of filing systems and of machines which add up your
deposits and calculate your interest. If I remember rightly, they
even go to the trouble of checking up their calculations and con-
fessing any wrong they have done you. The visuals plainly did less
than justice to the reality which was there, tucked away in a myriad
numbered slips : representing so many human cares and fears and
hopes and responsibilites. Detaching them from the regimented
mass, it is easy to see how resolutions are made every new year,
are broken, are taken up again : how no description of the citizen's
year can be half so true or half so intimate as the rise and fall of
the millions at the Savings Banks. Something of this we shall try
to tell, for over the mechanical visuals we propose to put a chorus
indicating — it may be in short snatches of confession, or in plain
objective record, or in vers litres — the human reference behind the
slips of the filing cabinets.

Once, in Paris, before the coming of sound, I heard an emigre
choir sing a background for The Village of Sin. They sang a harvest
song for a brilliant harvest scene, and brought the audience to
its feet. Walter Creighton recorded a similar chorus for his Canadian
harvest scene in One Family, but made the mistake of associating
" We Plough the Fields and Scatter " with the manipulators of

c218

Net-caster of Duwa, Negombo. From Basil Wright's documentary of
Ceylon. Sychronisation will be done with the aid of natives who
have been brought to London specially for the purpose.

Three Heads :
Granite Buddha, Kandyan
Dancer, Devil Dancer. From
Basil Wright's documentary
of Ceylon.

the Winnipeg Wheat Pit. Chorus does not stop there. In Three
Cornered Moon, you remember, snatches of conversation, held
together, made a choral accompaniment for an unemployment
sequence. People spoke in truncated desolation. In Beast of the
City the monotonous sound of police calls on the wireless swept across
the crime of a community. What development there might be if
the often beautiful formulae of sound and word which occur in life
were to be given dramatic value ! I hold myself a house lease in
eighteenth century English in which I swear by the Blessed Trinity,
and an insurance contract with Lloyds is the most attractive hunk
of English in commercial use to-day ; a repetition of Lloyds list
with its lovely ships' names and strange ports of sailing would
make a splendid attendant sound on the commerce of the world.
And why not, at last, use the poet ? The vers librists were
made for cinema. The monologues of Joyce, covering as they do the
subjective aspects of human action, are as important for the
sound film as the dialogue of the dramatist. The masked changes
in O'Neill between the word spoken and the word thought represent
the simplest properties of any considered sound film. Eisenstein
has possibly put the monologue too high in his account, by isolating
it from chorus. It is only one species of choral effect, limited some-
what to personal story. The larger possibilities lie beyond mono-
logue, I believe, in the poetry which, in the case of streets, say, will
arrange some essential story in the mumble of windows, pub counters
and passers-by. Our B.B.C. film will make some effort in the
complementary direction. We try there to make our childrens'
talk (a reading from Kingsley's " Heroes ") cross-section an after-
noon. Wre play Beethoven to cross-section a London night in one
mood, and jazz to cross-section it in another mood. We read
a psalm across starting machines, and a Shakespeare sonnet, with
instructions to shipping mixed, across the coming of night.

SECRETS OF NATURE

Disney's work apart, no other short films have so high an inter-
national reputation as the Secrets of Nature. Inaugurated in 1922 the
series now includes over 150 films which may have made certain con-
cessions to box-office regretted by the purists, but we must be grateful
to a commercial enterprise which did not give us in their stead the
wise-cracking imbecilities of many American " scientific shorts."
In "Secrets of Nature" (London: Faber. 12s. 6d.) the story of the
films is told by Mary Field and Percy Smith. The former writes
of filming bird life and of zoo films and adds an explanatory chapter
on editing and sound; and the latter occupies the major portion of
the book with a valuable description of filming insect and plant life.
An essentially modest account does not hide from us the fact that
it has been Smith's films which have brought chief distinction to
the series. _>_>!

STAGE PEOPLE
AND FILM THINGS

C. R. JONES

The history of the film as an art is that of its struggle against
theatricality. In the 'twenties of this century it seemed that this
struggle had been at last successful. But the arrival of the sound
film and the consequent disorganisation threw the cinema back into
the subservience to theatrical ideas from which it had only recently
escaped.

The struggle was renewed and has met with a considerable
measure of success. If we compare (say) Morning Glory and The Last
of Mrs. Cheyney (1928) we notice a number of important advances in
technique. The photographer has left the stalls; the scenarist has
emerged from the prompt-box; the director has a firmer hold on
the production now that he is no longer confined to the wings. In
fact, photographed plays get fewer and fewer each year, and real
films are seen more and more often.

But we have to admit that these films, though often well made,
are seldom worth making. Even in those like Power and Glory, on
which a certain amount of thought has been expended, we can find
only a painfully poor return. For the studios, though free from
theatrical technique, still concern themselves almost exclusively with
theatrical subject-matter. But, if the cinema is ever to become
anything more than a starring vehicle, if ever it is going to develop
a dramatic art of its own, it must realize the limits of its field of work.
These limits are determined by the nature of its technical equipment.

Both the film and the stage are almost entirely concerned with
Personal Drama — the presentation and solution of a conflict between
a few individuals. It depends for its success on the extent to which
it enables the spectator to neglect his knowledge that it is a fiction
and temporarily to identify himself with its protagonists. The
dramatist must, therefore, make vividness of presentation his first
object and avoid everything (including verisimilitude) which will
exhaust his audience's interest or distract their attention from the
essentials of the conflict. With this in mind he proceeds to
the choice of medium. If he should pick the film he is confronted
at the outset by a great difficulty. He must convince the audience
of the force of his characters' personality — otherwise his drama
will become a battle of shadows. In the theatre he brings before
them a flesh and blood actor — a man trained in the use of personal

C)C)C

magnetism. But in the cinema all he has is a shadow on a screen,
which has no attraction at all apart from that which he gives it.

In the early days of the cinema this difficulty was insuperable.
Films had no characters, only types — the Hero, the Villain, the
Funny Man. But when D. W. Griffith discovered the use of the
close-up the creation of character became possible. The camera can
now take us so close to the film-actor that his slightest expression
becomes significant. Thus, though the dramatist must dispense with
the assistance of personal attraction, he can use by way of compensa-
tion a close concentration on significant detail which is impossible
in a theatre. He can create character as well in a film as in a play.

But drama is something more than creation of character (which
is " starring"). It is the opposition of characters and its reasoned
solution. The dramatist brings two characters on to the stage, each
of whom can claim his share of the audience's attention without
encroaching on that necessary to his antagonist. But if the dramatist
wishes to bring another character into a film the procedure is less
simple. He must either withdraw the camera until it is able to
take in both, or else pan from one to the other. If he should do
the former he loses the concentration the close-up gave and presents
his audience with the photograph of a play; while another close-up
would obliterate in the mind of the audience the impression of the
first which it is absolutely essential should be maintained ; moreover
a film composed entirely of close-ups would be first tiring and
ultimately ineffective.

This is an obvious simplification of what occurs in actual
practice. Cameramen are so competent that they almost convince
us that their wanderings have a purpose — certainly they make us
forget that all they are doing is dithering between the middle
distance and the close-up, in a perpetual uncertainty whether to
settle in the stalls or at the microscope.

But, however cleverly it may be concealed, the dilemma is none
the less real; it cleaves in two any attempt to film Personal Drama.
Either the Persons obliterate the Drama, or the Drama conceals the
Persons. The part is made to equal the whole, which is absurd.

I do not mean to say that all Personal films are wholly worth-
less. There have, on the contrary, been innumerable excellent
studies of individual personalities. That is the star system; and at
its best, when Pabst is directing Brigette Helm, Wesley Ruggles
Mae West, or Stroheim himself, it produces exciting results. But
the excitement is really born of anticipation. "When this interesting
person really gets going," we think, "what a grand film it will be."
But they never do. By the time 'they have been created the film is
over and we are left with something that is not quite a case-history
and not quite a work of art. Neither flesh nor fowl, it is only a good

223

red herring distracting attention from better lines of work.

The majority of films are star films, in which the drama is
sacrificed to the principal character. The few in which the director
concentrates on his plot can be equally exciting but (except for
light comedy like The Guardsman or farces like the work of Tom
Walls) they are equally unsatisfactory. The gyrations of puppets
can never be more than a pastime for a wet afternoon. But more
ambitious attempts to hold the balance between character and plot
(such as Mamoulian's Song of Songs) are seldom even that. Personali-
ties and relationships are dangled before our eyes just long enough
to be enticing but not sufficiently long to be understood. We are
first tantalized, then bewildered, and finally bored.

Up to this point I should have the cordial agreement of the
theatricals. St. John Ervine, for instance, devotes two columns
about once a month to demonstrating that the cinema can never
encroach on the province of the stage — Personal Drama. But when
he goes on to conclude that the cinema can never produce any drama
at all we part company. For this is the purest nonsense, based on a
ridiculously limited view of the nature of drama. Professional
critics are often unable to distinguish the wood and the trees. But
to conclude that there is no wood because an artist is barking up the
wrong tree seems to me a deplorable example of mental myopia.

This blindness is all the more surprising because the elements of
the other kind of drama are more obvious now than ever before.
Every man is all his life a protagonist in two great conflicts — he has
to maintain his claim to consideration from his fellows, to establish
a satisfactory relationship with People; and he has to earn his
livelihood and fulfil his duties as a member of civilized society, to
assert his supremacy over Things. It is this second conflict — the
drama of Men and Things — that is of such peculiar interest to us
to-day. After centuries of effort we have overcome the opposition of
natural forces and enabled ourselves to produce an abundance of
material goods. Yet the machines which provide the means of life
are depriving millions of men of the opportunity of earning a
livelihood. Primitive tribes have evolved into the highly com-
plex organisms of modern national states, and they seem bent on
using their unprecedented powers chiefly in preparations for mutual
destruction. It is incredible that anybody should ignore these two
tragic paradoxes and all their innumerable effects. They form a
background for many novels and poetry, they disturb the con-
templation of the painter, they are even crowded on to the stage.
Only the cinema has not heard of them, and continues to exist in a
world of its own where material conditions, the controlling forces of
many people's lives, have no appreciable effect on the conduct of the
inhabitants.

224

From 'Edinburgh/7 directed by Marion Grierson for the Travel Association,
The shot is taken from the Calton Hill looking towards the Castle.

Further stills from " Edinburgh."
The upper two illustrate the
quaint closes and courts typical
of Edinburgh and the lower is
a glimpse of the Grassmarket
through a gun-port in the Castle
wall.

To lovers of any form of drama its failure to seize so great an
opportunity would be depressing. But to the cinema fan it must
appear criminal and self-destructive, not only because the drama
of Men and Things needs telling, but because it is the cinema's
peculiar province. The material is there, the medium is there, the
audience waits only for the creation. And stimulated by so fruitful
a combination of circumstances the heads of the cinema industry are
put together and succeed in producing a well-groomed piece of non-
sense like On the Air. The cinema fan, as he swallows his weekly dose
of syncopated sex, would think the directors completely ignorant of
the times they live in were it not for the strong development of one
contemporary characteristic, the capacity to abuse technical skill
and to miss great opportunities.

These opportunities can never be taken by the stage dramatist.
He is concerned not with People but with Persons. His scope is
limited by the size of his stage. But the cinema has no bounds.
Nothing is too big or too small or too complicated to be photo-
graphed; no two things are so completely disconnected that they
may not be juxtaposed on the screen. And it is this ability to
comprehend the smallest details and the most vast designs that
makes Environmental Drama its peculiar province.

RAMPANT REFORMERS

ERIC M. KNIGHT

The most newsworthy of all cinema items in America to-day con-
cerns no feature film production. It is the sudden, tremendous, well-
organized revolt of the public (led by reformers) against the
Hollywood movie.

The other day I sat in the largest public dining-room of one of
the largest cities in the United States. Although Americans are
notable luncheon-goers and speech-listeners, I was amazed at the
crowd. Every seat was taken. The Hollywood movie was deplored
as immoral; basely misrepresentative of America; the source of a
vast amount of juvenile crime and sex delinquency. Clubwomen,
civic leaders, clergy of all denominations, applauded. Funds were
raised to continue the war on "the immoral movie."

So at last, it seems, the shiny, shoddy material of the California
celluloid-factories is gagging in the throat of this land. It is as if
the diet has, at last, made the public retch.

227

Yet, real as this sudden organized revolt is, it is important for
those interested in the film as such to valuate properly such an
uprising. Will it mean anything to cinema?

The uprising here comes from two sources: the church and the
reform group. The Catholic Church, generally slow to wrath in
such affairs, has its sentiment reflected in the public utterance of a
leading Philadelphia official who declared that "one movie can
often undo the work that the church can do in two years" in regard
to children. He follows with stronger armament: that if movies
don't improve the only answer would be "call for a boycott by the
Sacred Heart organization." No idle threat, this, for such a move
by the powerful Roman Catholic Church would affect no less than
70,000 people in this area alone.

Protestant bodies are no less suddenly antagonistic to the motion
picture as food for young stomachs. The other element is the reform
group. It will be hard for Britain to understand the Puritanical
strain that runs strongly through so many Americans and makes
them natural-born zealots in reforms. It is a curious national trait.
Most Englishmen are happy as long as no one passes a law that
interferes with their private comfort; many Americans are never so
happy as when pushing through a law that forces everyone to con-
form to a law "that ought to be good for them." We are out to save
everyone. This reform element now finds itself in the same boat with
the great criminal element. The repeal of Prohibition put them
both out of a job. The criminals have turned to kidnapping; the
reformers turn to movie-reforming. Both are causing us much
trouble.

But I must add that no country but America could have staged
such a remarkable movie-reform programme as we have now. For
the reformers have used — breathe it reverently — science. And
again I am conscious that no British audience can feel the American
thrill as I write this. For popular science, here, is a god of gods.
You may think science abstract or cold. Here it is warm — living
among us. The veriest child here knows what science is. It is the
thing that howls and yowls to us from radios, placards, newspaper
ads., and street-car signs. Science proves that there is only one per-
fect cigarette, lipstick, auto tyre, floorwax, chewing-gum, deodorant,
laxative or roach powder — except every other kind which (by the
weird machinations of business men and scientists) comes similarly
endorsed. This new and awful bogey of science thrills the American
people with fear and sends them madly rushing to buy the latest
article. So highly regarded is science in the mass mind to-day that
no one pauses to doubt — to see that scientific facts are like bacteria — ■
you can always find one kind that will gobble up the other !

Aware of the bugaboo of science in the lay mind, the most

228

powerful anti-film workers have employed 'science" to show that
movies are dire and dreadful. For four years men toiled — men of
impeccable reputation — psychologists and criminologists, doctors and
professors and nerve specialists. Financed by the Payne Fund, they
compiled data and got up their reports. And, armed with these,
the Motion Picture Research Council is sweeping the country to
action.

The reports of tb'"se excellent research specialists cannot be
refuted. The nigger in the woodpile, however, is the "presentation
of these findings." Thus we find that the deus ex machina of this
newly powerful Research Council is William H. Short, director.
Mr. Short had written a book against movies before any of the
researches were made — hardly the coldly unprejudiced mind that
science considers desirable. And his presentation of facts is in-
teresting. Again, we need psychology, for he exclaims !

Exclaiming out loud is a popular game. It goes like this. I may
discover that industrial accidents claim 1,240 lives a year in Penn-
sylvania. That is cold fact. But notice the difference if I exclaim :
"Just think! In this great and sovereign state of ours no less than
1,240 human creatures laid down their lives on the altar of ruthless,
mechanized industry, and this in the space of one short year!'
You begin to feel that there's something very wrong indeed here —
maybe that industry should be abolished to save human life.

Thus the Research Council exclaims. It spent $200,000 on
research. I have before me six well-bound volumes of reports. They
bombard one with "scientific facts" such as that 102 0^252 delin-
quent girls said it was "the movie-made urge" that "landed them
in trouble"; that 54 out of no inmates of a penal institution said
movies gave them a desire to carry a gun; that 23 said "that movies
taught them how to fool police"; that male delinquents testified
using "certain types of movies as excitants for arousing and
stimulating the passions of girls."

But the prize scientific fact of all is that tests showed that after
going to movies children had great increase in sleep motility (turning
of the body) and that in boys it averaged 26 per cent and girls 14 per
cent. The horror of this shows when you learn that a similar sleep
motility increase is produced by drinking two cups of coffee. And,
while this finding is beyond argument, no one rationalizes it by
measuring increased motility on, let us say, Christmas Eve, or after
receiving a toy, or after visiting the Zoo. In fact, we might ask if
increased movement in sleep is bad? Is all nervous stimulation bad?
If so, isn't the polyp the happiest and best of living creatures and
should we trv to be like him?

But, again, you do not say these facts coldly. You exclaim.
Just think! Sleep motility increases 26 per cent after movies.

- 29

"Horrors!" the listener answers, "As bad as all that?"

Thus it appears that, while the reform element will often be on
the same side of the fence as the film-worker or cineaste ; while that
element often uses our own words in its own behalf, quoting critics
and reviewers to bolster up arguments ; really we are not one army.

For the reform movement, in America at least, is but a blind
mass surge, a good old public emotional spree mixed with popular
indignation, that has no end beyond making an outcry.
For, sad as it will seem, the Motion Picture Research Council has no
real answer to furtherance of the film. After a recent meeting I asked
the President, Mrs. August Belmont, just how she proposed to get
decent juvenile films before decent juveniles. There was no plan.
Would they work toward a supply of well-made 16 mm. films — for
the 1 6 mm. field awaited such development? "No," she smiled.
"It was a bit disconcerting because I understood those sort of films
all had to have different kinds of projectors." (Sic.)

So, the film follower must keep himself still isolated. He can't
climb any white horses and ride in any parades. The truth is that all
this reform sentiment means no more to films than the art of painting
is furthered by that element that would like to go about the world
making curators paint panties on the nude figures of canvasses. For
they are carping at morals — and, it seems to me, morals have nothing
whatever to do with any art and never have had.

All I can think of is that the Payne Fund spent $200,000 to prove
what I or you could have told them without spending a cent: that
Hollywood movies are pretty rancid tripe most of the time and not
particularly good for weak-minded children or for adults whose
physical or mental weaknesses make them prone to criminal life.

For, to do any good for the cinema you've got to love it — and love
it for itself alone. And that's the trouble with the reformers. None
of them love this poor darned thing made of celluloid. For, if they
did, how could they spend $200,000 on reports? How could they?
In fact, how dare they?

Two hundred thousand dollars wasted to prove what we all
know — and not one cent for real constructive work : to provide proper
films for children.

Oh for that lost $200,000 — so that we could stop caterwauling
about what horrible pictures children see, and give them dozens of
good ones instead.

BOOKS RECEIVED

An Innocent in Hollywood. By Clarence Winchester (London:

Cassell. 2s. 6d.). The editor of the "Film Pictorial' gives his

readers some more revelations.

The Eyes of the Movie. By Harry Alan Potamkin (New York:

International Publishers. 55 cents.). An attack on the "treacherous

re-action of the bourgeois film."

230

FILMING IN CEYLON

BASIL WRIGHT

Production covered less than three months, of which seven weeks
were devoted to almost continuous shooting. Final footage was
23,000 feet and about 1,000 stills were shot on a Leica by my assistant,
John Taylor.

Highspots were (a) Sri Pada (Adam's Peak) — the world's holiest
mountain — for over 2,000 years a centre of pilgrimage in the East.
Seven thousand feet high and covered with dense jungle, except for
the summit, a great triangle of grey rock on top of which, walled in
and covered with a flimsy wooden canopy, is a huge footprint —
claimed by various creeds for Buddha, Siva, Adam, St. Thomas,
Saman. Chiefly a Buddhist sanctuary. The shrine is reached by a
flight of three thousand rock-hewn steps up which the pilgrims
(they have counted 18,000 in a day) must climb barefoot.
At dawn they worship ; and at dawn the Peak casts its famous shadow
— a seventy-mile-long triangle which hangs between sky and land,
so that from the summit you can look down through it on to the hills
and valleys below. We staged our own pilgrimage, taking some
fifty Buddhists including old men, women and children, and covered
the whole thing in thirty-six hours — including a freezing night in
deck-chairs on the summit. The pilgrims wrere perfect actors, being
quite unselfconscious, and wholly immersed in the religious sig-
nificances of their pilgrimage. As for the shadow — which lasts for
about twenty minutes — we put two cameras on it and filmed it at
every possible camera speed and exposure. We obtained best
results from f 5.6, sixteen frames a second, graduated filter Ki to
blank; and from f 3.5, turning dead slow, with red (Wratten A)
filter.

(b) The Buried Cities — Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa, Sigiriya —
whose architectural remains seemed to me as good, if not better,
than many of the more famous sights of ancient civilisation. The
remains at Polonnaruwa (at its peak in twelfth century. A.D.) ate
up some 3,000 feet of film in two da They built either in rich

red brick or in granite. The brick was often covered with thick
plaster painted with coloured frescoes. We cleared a patch of jungle
away to shoot a forty-foot-long recumbent Buddha — covered with

231

cobwebs and surrounded by the footprints and droppings of bears.
We used 150 square feet of reflectors and shot with a red (Wratten A)
filter, thus getting an effect of internal glow on to the carvings and
statues. We filmed the same objects at dawn, at midday, at evening.
And we could easily have shot the whole 23,000 feet there.

(c) Dancing. Kandyan dancing is an excellent example of
primitive movements formalised and classicised by tradition and
religion, yet retaining the vigour of prehistoric origin. Like good
Orientals they dance with their whole bodies; and they take it
seriously. They go into a dancing school as early as four years old,
and after twelve years training about two out of every ten are judged
good enough to join a troupe. The dresses are elaborate and cere-
monially significant. We had the idea of showing our dancers at
their ordinary life in the village before revealing them in their more
godlike guise, and so we took entire possession of their village for six
days. We attempted to shoot not merely for sensational or romantic
effect; we aimed also at an analysis of at least three of their dances.
In this job again we needed every ounce of light from our reflectors.
As we were shooting silent we have had to bring some of the dancers
to England for synchronising purposes.

In addition to the big stuff, we filmed many aspects of life in the
island, taking wild rushes out to sea in catamarans or shooting more
peacefully a rice harvest in a fold of the Uva hills. But in all the
shooting our idea, apart from the production of certain one-reelers,
was to achieve a co-ordination of all the primary elements of Ceylon
into a construction which should carry a conviction, not merely of
what Ceylon now superficially is, but of what Ceylon stands for
in the line of that vital history which is measured in terms of
statues, monuments, religion, and of human activity. It can easily
be seen how the inter-relation of our three highspots forms the
controlling factor of all the material.

The film is now on the cutting bench, and it is interesting to note
that material which, had we shot it last year in the West Indies,
would have been a first choice, goes now straight into the waste bin,
rejected purely for its externality, its superficiality — in fact, for its
documentary remoteness.

The synchronisation of the film will be a problem calling for
very solid experimentation in sound technique. But there is no space
to go into that here.

Make sure of perfect photography by using

THE CINEMATOGRAPHER'S BOOK OF TABLES

An indispensible companion for the professional and amateur camera-man.

Pocket size, 5s. By post 5s. 3d., from

CINEMA QUARTERLY, 24 N.W. Thistle Street, Lane, Edinburgh, 2.

232

THE FILM ABROAD

ACTIVITY IN BELGIUM

Though fTm clubs are having a difficult time due to financiarstrin-
gency and public apa hy, another new society, known as Art J,
has been founded in Brussels under the control of a Committee of
critics of all opinions. Its performances so far have included revivals
of The Italian Straw Hat, Metropolis, The Crowd, as well as two Dutch
shorts, Koelinga's Blind Alley and Dick Laan's Football.

Le Club de VEcran, after a period of inactivity, has arranged a
further series of performances which have included The Cabinet of
Dr. Caligari and two other Dutch films, Profondeur and Pubit: by
Hans Sluizer — disappointing experiments showing the thorough
sterility oi super-realism as applied to artistic creation. Equally
disappointing is Ankara, Coeur de la Turquie by Youtkevitch. This
reportage of a Soviet delegate's visit to Turkey is even less successful
than many American travelogues. In LOrage (The Thunderstorm),
however, Le Club de VEcran produced a good fragment, well coloured,
clever realism, lacking variety but with a well sustained rhythm.

An entire evening was devoted to British films produced by the
G.P.O. Unit, preceded by a lecture by Stuart Legg. The programme
included Industrial Britain, Cargo from Jamaica, Cable Ship and 0' r
Hill and Dale. Cable Ship and Industrial Britain roused special atten-
tion. In the former the image is both perfect and simple, giving
charm to a technical subject and a significance approaching sym-
bolism. The latter showed a profound feeling for cinema, though
a little too compact for the average spectator, whom the absence
of transitions and the rapidity of the cutting seemed to disconcert.
At first sight, however, the experiment of the G.P.O. seems decisive
and appears like the birth of a truly popular cinema which both
the man in the street and the aesthete can appreciate.

Another notable event is the return of Charles de Keukelire from
the Congo, to which country he undertook a voyage of discovery
with a motor expedition. He has brought back with him much film
which he has now begun to put together as a documentary of the
many aspects of the great Belgian colony. This is the first experi-
ment of the kind attempted in Belgium.

Carlo Queeckers is also just back from Portugal, where he has
been shooting exteriors for Paienne. Other scenes have been shot
on the outskirts of Brussels and considerable curiosity has been
aroused in this film, which is the first work of an international

_^3

character which has been undertaken by a Belgian.

Ludo Patris.

DENMARK. The Bride of Palo, the documentary film of Green-
land on which Knud Rasmussen was at work when he died, has
now been completed and edited according to his original script.
Reminiscent of Flaherty's JVanook of the North, it has for its theme
the rivalry of two hunters for the hand of an Eskimo girl, and
contains stirring scenes of danger and storm. The acting is done
entirely by Eskimos and care has been taken to film many of the
native rites and customs. The film is proving a popular success
in Denmark, and because of its educational value it has been
exempted from entertainments tax.

ITALY. World-wide interest is being taken in the great cinema
exhibition to be held in Venice during August. Representative
films from almost every country will be screened and trophies
will be awarded for the best Italian and foreign films and for the
best director, scenarist, actor, actress, and photographer. There will
also be special awards for the best documentary film and the best
animated cartoon. Among the British films expected to be shown
are Don Juan, Blossom Time, Man of Aran and Contact.

The Melba-esque Venice of moonlight and gondolas is to be
" debunked " by a film which Francesco Pasinetti is to direct for
Venezia Film from a scenario by P. M. Pasinetti. Venice will be
shown as a city of workers and steamers as well as of loungers and
palaces.

U.S.A. As a result of the NRA restrictions on block booking
American exhibitors now have greater freedom in their choice
of pictures. Competition between the independent producers and
the large studios has thus been intensified. A stiff fight is in prospect
and in an attempt to beat the independents by quantity production
one studio alone is planning to put out no fewer than ninety pictures
next year.

Charles Breasted has produced for the Oriental Institute of
Chicago University The Human Adventure, a summary of man's
rise from primitive life to civilization. A 6,000 miles air journey
round the Institute's various expeditions throughout the East gives
movement and unity to the survey.

An official film of native tribal life is being made for the Mexican
government by Wallace Smith.

AUSTRALIA. Australia does not take its film art seriously.
At least not in an organized form. We have no group movements
of earnest film students and none are likely to emerge while the
present scheme of censorship continues to function. This system

234

Douglas Fairbanks with Benita Hume in 'The Private Life
of Don Juan/' a new London Film Production completed
at Elstree. Direction: Alexander Korda. Photography:
Georges Perinal.

From "Rising Tide/' a film of the new Southampton Dock,
by Paul Rotha. Production : Gaumont-British Instructional.
Photography: Pocknall.

Above — Unemployed at the docks.

Below — Charging steel furnaces, from the industrial sequence.

denies the right of entrance to practically all foreign films. Of
those reviewed during the past year in Cinema Quarterly we
haven't seen one. The only film clubs in Australia are The Good
Film League and Imperial Film Club. Both exist more or less
for the benefit of patriotic British-Australians whose sole desire
appears to be to flag-wave and " Boost British." Such organizations
spend most of their time demanding a higher standard of films
from American producers and then feature at a special screening
for club members a British picture based on a bedroom plot in
which the hero and heroine indulge in suggestive scenes and risque
dialogue. But it is all good clean fun, if it is British ! Such clubs
can be summarily dismissed so far as being considered as engaging
in any attempt even remotely to study film art.

Leon S. Stone.

AUSTRIA. A film acted entirely by gypsies is being made by Fritz
Weiss. A special feature will be the playing of genuine traditional
music as opposed to the pseudo-gypsy music to which film-goers
have become familiar.

FRANCE. Julien Duvivier is to direct for Ichthys Films Le Golgotha*
a " real life " drama of Calvary written by Joseph Reymond.

Rene Clair's latest film, in production at Joinville, is entitled
Le Dernier des Milliardaires. Max Dearly and Marthe Mello are
in the cast.

MISCELLANY

CINEMATIC COLOUR

Probably nowhere in Hollywood are the new attributes of the
cinema seized upon and applied and perfected with such immediate
appreciation of their film values as in the Disney Studio. Forsyth
Hardy, in the Spring 1933 Number of Cinema Quarterly, lauded the
first colour Silly Symphonies of Walt Disney. Since then, Disney and
his staff have continued to develop the colour cartoon. Disney is so
convinced of the success of his colour cartoons that he may produce
Mickey Mouse in colour. Of late he and his co-workers have been
evolving a method of giving his Silly Symphonies more depth and
perspective by means of cut out foregrounds beneath which the actual
animation takes place. But of greater significance to the progress of
the colour film has been the introduction of " cinematic colour" into
some of the more recent Silly Symphonies.

237

Cinematic colour (a coined expression) may be defined as colour
in the process of changing from one hue to another. The colour in
the early Silly Symphonies, as in painting, was static. The colour
on the animated figures and on the backgrounds did not change.
Mobile colour has been employed in other forms of expression. The
theatre offers an obvious example in stage lighting where the
dramatic and spectacular possibilities of modulating colour have
been often effectively appropriated. But Disney has been the first
(as far as the writer is aware) to use changing colour in films.

When the big bad wolf in Three Little Pigs blows on the wind-proof
brick house until he is exhausted, his face turns first pale, then purple.
Here Disney employed cinematic colour as a humorous gag. In
Lullaby Land the dream of the baby reaches a nightmarish climax in
the dance of the smoky bogeys. These figures would have been
fantastic and frightening enough with their contortions and shape
transformations and strange ejaculations, but their chimeric actions
are enormously intensified because their variations in shape are
accompanied by changes in colour (dark terrifying green, brown,
and purple). In The Grasshopper and the Ants Disney used cinematic
colour more thoroughly than in any other of his Silly Symphonies.
The picture begins in the summer with the land and the grass-
hopper green. Change in colour with fall. Change in colour with
winter. The grasshopper, hungry and cold, becomes pale, and then
an icy blue. Saved from freezing to death by the thrifty ants, his
blue turns back to green as he is being revived. Cinematic colour
thus played a part not only in symbolizing the change in seasons, but
in describing the changing physical state of the grasshopper.

The possibilities of cinematic colour in regular motion pictures
are endless; however, until realistic colour is more satisfactorily
reproduced, Disney has the field to himself.

Mack W. Schwab.

THOUGHTS ON MONTAGE

To determine the nature of montage is to solve the specific problem
of the film. — Eisenstein in "Experimental Cinema."

Montage is not an idea recounted by pieces following each other,
but an idea that arises in the collision of pieces independent of
each other. — Eisenstein in the same article.

Montage is the mathematics of film-construction, the dialectical
principles governing the dynamics of film form. — Eisenstein, quoted
by Seymour Stern, in the same issue of "Experimental Cinema."

Montage may be understood as the inclusive, creative and con-

238

r

structive unityjthat is present from the birth of the first gleam of
idea in the mind of the scenarist to the final act of assembling the
film strips by constructive editing and cutting. — Paul Rotha in
"The Film Till Now."

Montage — The act of assembling material, whether of scenario,
of material in the studio or on location, or of the strips of celluloid
bearing photographic images during the editing. — Definition by
Paul Rotha in "The Film Till Now."

The only possible English equivalent (of montage) is editing. —
Ivor Montagu's notes on Pudovkin's "Film Technique."

The foundation of film art is editing (montage) ... I repeat
that editing is the creative force of film reality. — Pudovkin's intro-
duction to his "Film Technique."

Montage is " the logic," ss the structural principle of film-
language." — Pudovkin, quoted by Seymour Stern.

Montage does not mean cutting, although manifestly it cannot
be achieved without resort to the physical operation of cutting. —
Seymour Stern in the same article.

Montage means joining together shots of situations that occur
at different times and in different places. — Rudolf Arnheim in
" Film."

Fifteen principles of montage* : — i. Change of place ; 2. Change
of position of the camera ; 3. Change of camera angle ; 4. Stressing
of details ; 5. Analytical montage ; 6. Past time ; 7. Future time ;
8. Parellel events ; 9. Contrast ; 10. Association ; 11. Concentration ;
12. Enlargement ; 13. Monodramatic montage; 14. Refrain;
15. Montage. — Timoshenko, quoted by Arnheim.

Montage is film editing done constructively. — B. V. Braun in
"film art."

Montage is mechanized imagination. — Herbert Read in Cinema
Quarterly.

There is no such thing as montage. — G. F. Dalton in Cinema
Quarterly. Mounted by G. F. Dalton.

BOOKS RECEIVED

The Home Cinema. By J. P. Laurie (London: Chapman and Hall.

3s. 6d.). An unpretentious guide for the novice. Particular attention

is paid to projection, and amateurs are sensibly advised to avoid

Hollywood subjects for filming.

The Censor, The Drama, and The Film, 1900 — 1934. By Dorothy

Knowles (London : Allen & Unwin. 7s. 6d.) For Review in next issue.

Manual of Law for the Cinema Trade. Bv Gordon Alchin.

(London : Pitman. 30s.) For Review in next issue.

*Compare the traditional classification of eggs : —

1. Xew-laid eggs ; 2. Fresh eggs ; 3. Eggs ; 4. Eggs for election purposes.

1 39

FILMS OF THE QUARTER

DECENT DOCUMENTS

FORSYTH HARDY

An attempt to trace a serious social purpose in the manifestations
of the commercial movie is merely mis-spent energy. Behind every
social document there must be a sincere and solid purpose to give
it perspective and point of view. Behind the commercial film there
is no greater purpose than to swell the tinkle at the box-office till.
Basil Wright once put the point neatly when writing of / Am a
Fugitive, that exciting exposure of penitentiary conditions in the
Southern States. Sensing the absence from the film of the funda-
mental decency of sincerity, he suggested that " the reason after
all, for lavishing cash on this production was not primarily a burning
desire to rid the U.S.A. of one of its myriad plague-spots ; it was
simply that the story was sensational enough to draw box-office
cash in excess of studio expenditure." The conditions under which
the commercial cinema operates make it not so much difficult as
unnecessary to produce decent documents of the life of the people.
When such films as The World Changes, Gabriel Over the White House,
The Mayor of Hell and Golden Harvest appear, we ought not merely
to reject them for the underlying insincerity of their purpose, but
recognize and record that they are preferable alternatives to Hips
Hips, Hooray ! Merry Wives of Reno and Bottoms Up ! They become
interesting when they attempt to do something more ambitious
than provide a variant on the formula of the guy and the girl and
who-gets-who. But it would be idle to magnify these chance
accidents of production into something as large and important
as a serious application to a social purpose.

It is necessary to make this point in order to place the major
films of the quarter in their proper perspective. The case of Man
of Aran is discussed by Ralph Bond and I need not elaborate.
Man of Aran, as he points out, breaks the fundamental documentary
principle of "the creative treatment of actuality." All that Flaherty
has stood for in cinema, all his fine achievement amidst an unfriendly
film world, led us to expect a restrained if romantic record of the
life of a people, significantly selective in detail and appreciative of
the nuances of common feeling. To a certain extent, of course, the
film successfully reflects the life of the islanders : any other result
would surely be impossible after some two years of filming on the
islands; but for too much of its length is Man of Aran concerned with

240

Dita Parlo and Lucas Gridoux
in " Rapt/' a Swiss film
directed by Dmitri Kirsanov.

From "Unfinished Symphony/'
directed by Willi Forst. An
Austrian film, based on the
Schubert romance.

Marlene Dietrich and John Lodge in "The Scarlet
Empress " (Paramount), directed by Josef von Sternberg.
Photography: Bert Glennon.

sensational incidents which are unjustified when not set against a
natural background to give them perspective. The Flaherty of
Nanook and Moana is the last person from whom we expected box-
office sensationalism. Nor is it easy to accept the explanation, passed
on by C. A. Lejeune, that Man of An an is but a trailer for a longer
film. If the real story of Aran is "the fight to hold the land against
eviction," and "the windjammers in the big seas off the islands,
where the Armada broke," why did Flaherty spend so much time
and energy in recording with painstaking elaboration two storms at
sea and a tussle with a shark? If his purpose, according to the
"trailer" explanation, was "to pique our curiosity," he might have
assessed more highly our powers of anticipation. With infinite regret
— for Flaherty represented the one hope of carrying documentary
into the wider field of the picture houses — we must write off Man of
Aran as a beautiful essay in box-office sensationalism with little more
significance than if it had been produced from purely box-office
motives.

Viva Villa represents another attempt by the film-makers to
record something of the life of a people on the screen ; and, what-
ever the film's shortcomings, we prefer an ambitious to a dormant
Hollywood. There was always less chance of this succeeding as a
social document than of Man of Aran. Flaherty did not have the
film star to contend with and there was in his approach more than
a germ of sincerity ; but behind Viva Villa there was but the keen
commercial force of M.G.M. and the film is not insensitive to the
influences which were brought to bear on it. It is a rapid, rousing
entertainment, a spectacle and an excitement which, despite all
its picturesque finery and sentimental trappings, will rouse a stronger
feeling of protest against oppression than did Thunder over Mexico.

Here, as in The House of Rothschild, the presence of protest gives
the theme a compelling urge : what might have been a paltry
pageant of the past becomes a modern pamphlet with a vigorous
message. Superficially The House of Rothschild is the story of the
rise to power of the famous banking house which gained control
of European finance at the time of the Napoleonic wars, and
especially of Nathan Rothschild, whose loan to the Allies before
Waterloo secured freedom from oppression and equality of trading
for the Jewish people. But we do not miss the significance of Nathan
Rothschild's appeal for his people or fail to see in the threatening
figures of Metternich and Ledrantz, the forces of Hitler and Goebbels.
The producer, Darryl Zanuck, does not seek to hide his aim :
" I have found that the best way to tell a timely story is to take material
a hundred years old. It prevents literal-minded people from making
narrow objections on petty grounds. And it leaves everyone free
to make whatever parallels with the present dav he likes." The

-M-3

film makes an eloquent and persuasive protest against political
tyranny and racial prejudice. There are no half-tones in the
propaganda : the Jew is shown as excessively righteous, with the
ghost of the moneylender afar off, while the Ledrantz of Boris
Karloff is a blood-and-thunder villain, without intelligence. This
is at once the strength and the weakness of the film : strength
in its use of cinema as a direct plea for the rehabilitation of German
Jewry ; weakness in its unbalanced attitude and sentimental
belief in the inevitably virtuous Jew. George Arliss has his most
worth-while part since Disraeli and for once the film is allowed to
have an existence apart from his own performance.

Not many of the other films of the quarter escape the conventional
categories. Like Rotha, I find Rowland Brown's Blood Money
exciting and significant, a vigorous analysis of the curious moralities
of the American underworld. There is something vital in Brown's
compact and compelling methods which Sternberg never achieves
with his finicking, fluttering filming in The Scarlet Empress. Sternberg
has succumbed to the numbing influences of Hollywood while
Brown has fought for his independence. G. W. Pabst does not
appear to have been successful in retaining his freedom of ex-
pression in Hollywood. In A Modern Hero, his adaptation of Louis
Bromfield's novel, there is little to suggest the director of Kameradschaft
and Don Quixote, Significantly it is dismissed in a trade paper as a
" Safe popular booking, especially for star fans" ! The star is not
of course, the director. Among the quarter's other novels adapted
as films is All Men Are Enemies, which retains the title but little of
significance from Richard Aldington's novel. Meanwhile revue
films remain steady, with Murder at the Vanities a feature, while
support is appearing for animal films, Frank Buck's Wild Cargo
participating prominently in the movement.

With the exception of Man of Aran and Wings Over Everest, there
are no notable British films of the quarter, though Jew Suss, Chu
Chin Chow and The Private Life of Don Juan suggest interesting
achievement on the way. The Secret of the Loch is a melodramatic
account of what is regarded in Scotland as something more than
a popular superstition or mass halucination. The elusiveness
of the subject has up till now made a documentary difficult.

Among the foreign films, which have come mostly from France,
notable are Rapt, an adaptation of the novel by C. F. Ramuz,
La Separation des Races, directed by Dmitri Kirsanov with music by
Honegger ; Crainquebille, a modern version by Jacques de Baroncelli
of the Anatole France story filmed some ten years ago by Jacques
Feyder ; and The Loves of Ariane, a censored version of the early
Czinner-Bergner film released now in order to profit from the
popularity of the star of Catherine the Great.

MAN OF ARAN

Production: Gainsborough. Direction and Photography: Robert Flaherty.
Scenario and Editing: John Goldman. Music: John Greenwood.
Distributors: Gaumont-British. Length., JP4J feet.

Escapism is a disease common to the commercial film. Remoteness
from or distortion of reality is the hall-mark of almost all box-office
pictures. Movie, as a consequence, reflects a world totally at variance
with the experience of the great mass of people. Documentary is, or
should be, something different. It takes fact and experience, dis-
covers and brings out the essential drama in lives and events, avoids
sensationalism and sticks closely to the truth.

Which brings us to Man of Aran. Probably no Flaherty film has
been so eagerly awaited. Newspaper film critics had fed us with
lively stories of the two years spent by Flaherty in Aran, and the
rumour merchants had been busy with tales of gigantic achievements
in the making. So we were all nicely keyed up for the first night at
the New Gallery and even managed to endure the massed band of the
Irish Guards. The men of Aran were there in force, having spent
many busy weeks in London recording the sound track, being photo-
graphed in odd corners and even making personal appearances.

We were rewarded with a film which for photographic beauty has
rarely been equalled. There is no doubting Flaherty's genius for
dramatizing the conflict between man and Nature. The storm scenes
in the opening and closing sequences reveal Flaherty cutting at its
best. But two storms and a shark hunt do not make a picture and we
are more concerned with what Flaherty has left out than with what
he has put in. For here we come up against the element of escapism.
Man of Aran is escapist in tendency, more so probably than any
previous Flaherty production. Flaherty would have us believe that
there is no class struggle on Aran, despite ample evidence to the con-
trary. There is a sequence in the film showing the islanders scraping
for precious drops of soil in the rock crevices, but no mention, as Ivor
Montagu said in the " Daily Worker," of the absentee landlords who
sent men to tear down their huts and scatter their soil, in default of
payment for things they had made themselves.

If Flaherty lived on the islands for two years he must have known
these things. Why then, does he not tell us about them? Why does
he merely present us with the spectacle of a handful of islanders (out
of a population of twelve hundred) waging incessant war against the
fury of the sea? We must assume that he is a romantic idealist
striving to escape the stern and brutal realities of life, seeking ever to
discover some back-water of civilization untouched by the problems

245

and evils affecting the greater world outside. But his field is being
narrowed down: the back-waters themselves reflect, on a smaller
scale it is true, these very problems and evils. Nowhere in the world
can we escape the realities of life — the struggle of man not only
against Nature but against land sharks and capitalist exploitation,
and the poverty and slavery that goes with it. Thus Flaherty's world
is a world of dreams ; it exists only in his imagination. Unfortunately,
fairy tales, however beautiful and artistic, have nothing to do with
documentary.

Flaherty has not only concealed the existence of the class struggle
on Aran. He (or Gaumont-British) has gone all out for box-office
sensationalism. We are led to believe that the men in the shark hunt
faced fearful dangers, whereas the sharks in these waters are com-
paratively harmless creatures. A small boat rides through a sea so
gigantic that no ordinary boat could live in it for five minutes. And
so on. Very little is seen of the life on the island itself and nothing of
the island customs, traditions and ceremonies. It is one more
example of the Barnum method of beating the big drum furiously on
the principle that the more noise you make the better must the
picture be.

It is all rather tragic — for Aran has all the makings of a superb
documentary film. But then perhaps, Gaumont-British would not
have been so interested. . . .

Ralph Bond.

OCTOBER (f*~?s)

Production: Sovkino. Direction: S. M. Eisenstein. Photography: Edouard
Tisse. Scenario: Alexandrov. Art Direction: V. I. Kovrigin. Dis-
tribution: Film Society. Length: 13,000 feet (approx.).

This film held me absorbed throughout the entire thirteen reels and
it was not until some hours later that my critical senses re-asserted
themselves. In its conception and in its realization, the film is so
tremendous that it deserves more than passing notice. It is of course
silent, though a musical score was composed by Meisel and played
at the Film Society show. The music was bad and continually at
war with the film; it seemed cheap and tinny compared with the
greatness of the film unreeling itself above.

The film covers the period from February to November, 191 7,
the collapse of the Tsarist government, the coming and going of the
Kerensky Provisional Government, the fight between the Men-
sheviks and the Bolsheviks (with the Trotsky share carefully
expugned) and the final establishment of the Soviets. A great theme
that has been greatly expressed.

246

From " Wheatfields in East Anglia," an educational film,
produced by Gaumont-British Instructional and directed by
Mary Field. Photography : Pocknall.

Your Booking Difficulties

SOLVED!

• One of the greatest problems which face
organisers of cinema performances in connection
with film societies, clubs, institutes, schools, etc.,
is to know how to obtain the films they want :

J

where to apply for them : how much they cost.

• To overcome this difficulty CINEMA QUAR-
TERLY has established a central organisation,
with direct Wardour Street connections, which
will not only supply this information but will
carry out the necessary negotiations with the

appropriate renters.

• A vast amount of unnecessary correspondence
and labour will by this means be avoided — to the
relief both of exhibiting societies and trade dis-
tributors.

• CINEMA QUARTERLY makes no charge
for this new service which is intended as a con-
venience both to readers and to the trade,
through whose regular channels all bookings will
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The only stipulation is that all enquiries must be accompanied by
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CINEMA QUARTERLY
FILM SERVICE

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Telegrams: TRICOLOUR, EDINBURGH

There have been all kinds of criticism directed against the film;
its symbols were cheap, its cutting obvious, etc. It should be remem-
bered that the film was made in 1927. Then, its technique was
revolutionary. But though there may be symbolism that we have
since rejected, bad photography, cheap effect cutting, they are all
as nothing beside the realisation of a great conception. All the
good looks in the world are not going to make a film. What matters
is the content, the theme. Beautiful photography, smooth direction
are worthless, (vide Viva Villa) if there is no theme behind the picture,
if no thought has gone to the making of it.

There is such a wealth of virtues in the film that it is difficult to
isolate individual sequences for consideration. Perhaps the raising
of the bridge is the greatest individual piece of cutting in the film.
Nothing inanimate on the screen yet has been so supercharged with
idea as that bridge. Never has the cinema been used so effectively
for satire as in the Kerensky episode. Satire is not achieved inside the
frame, but by relation, by movie methods. The economy of shots
Eisenstein uses to create an effect should be a lesson to movie
directors. There are places in which the film sags, particularly
when Eisenstein uses twenty minutes of screen time to express the
twenty minutes before the Bolsheviks took over the revolution. The
sequence in the Tsarina's bedroom is masterly; the young sailor is
momentarily affected by the visible symbols of royalty and the con-
quering of tradition in his mind is superbly suggested.

This film is the work of a master, one of the few directors who
have left an indelible stamp on the work of film producers all over
the world.

D. F. Taylor.

BLOOD MONEY

Production: 20th Century. Written and Directed by Rowland Brown.
Photography: J. Van Trees. Distribution: United Artists. Length:
5, j 40 feet.

Rowland Brown has probably gone nearer to presenting a logical
social explanation of the racket system of business in America than
any other movie director, and despite the mawling of hirelings
Blood Money gets across a sincere expression of social feeling. As a
picture, it parades most of the familiar ingredients of the stereotyped
box-office subject. It is patent that Brown has written a movie
story which he knew would prove acceptable to the mentalities of the
picture business, yet which at the same time allowed him a little
freedom for his own outlook. Hence we get an admirable inter-
pretation of a millionaire's daughter (from Frances Dee of all

249

people!) with a leaning towards kleptomania and a more-than-
leaning towards the physical stimulus of men as far removed from
her own social set as are her father's ideas of business from the South
Sea Islands which he exploits for his millions. The high-spot climax,
including a last-minute rescue, is in the true Griffith tradition and as
old as cinema itself, but because of its grand cutting and use of sound,
gets across on a modern audience better than anything else of its
kind that I have seen this year. At more leisurely moments, such as
the parting scene between the bond-bailiff and bis woman, Brown
reveals a hitherto unsuspected tenderness of direction which probably
arises from his complete understanding of the mentalities of the
types that he is portraying. Many small touches will bring admira-
tion for the man's intelligence; for example, the departmental-store
chief's air-cushion and the releasing of the greyhounds at the race
track. Almost every shot and certainly every line of dialogue has
point and needs watching. Eight hundred feet are removed from this
English version. From what is left, you will judge Brown as a first-
rate director awaiting freedom of story and treatment and a square
production deal.

Paul Rotha.

VIVA VILLA

Production and Distribution : Me tro-Goldwyn- Mayer. Direction : Jack
Conway. Photography : James Wong Howe. Dialogue : Ben Hecht.
With Wallace Beery, Fay Wray, Stuart Erwin, Leo Carrillo, H. B.
Walthall. Length 9,862 feet.

The Eisenstein influence lingers on in Hollywood. Not only directly
inspired in theme by Thunder Over Mexico, Viva Villa in addition
repeats a great many of the actual set-ups from the Eisenstein film.
It purports to be the story of the Mexican peons' attempt to free
themselves. Unfortunately for the realisation of the film, the
Americans could not rid themselves of the idea that Mexicans are
white " niggers " and as such, figures of low comedy, or " bad
hombres," and as such figures of cowboy melodrama. They have
conceived the Mexican fight for independance on the lines of a
Western with all the attendant plot circumstances we know so well.
The film must have been a headache for M.G.M. The only way
they could avoid the great social issues involved was to convert
the revolution into cowboy gunfights and to concentrate on person-
alities. Consequently the whole film fails as a social document ;
revolutionary ideals become purposeless when there are no causes.

Compare this film with October — in the two films there are similar
themes — and you will see the wide gulf which separates the social

250

film from the entertainment film. Symbols such as a hand clutching
a piece of earth become merely sentimental patriotism, the op-
pression of people becomes just another high spot. The actors wade
through lathers of cheap American sentimentality ; the leading of a
revolution is degraded to the posturing of movie stars. Pancho
Villa is played by Beery as a villain with a heart of gold beneath a
rugged exterior ; he alternates between slobbering mawkishness
and brutal half-wittedness. All the stock situations and characters
are grafted on to a theme that should have swept outside personalities
into the larger heroisms of mass action. Leo Carrillo as Villa's
assistant is the only character in the film. Dialogue, by Ben Hecht,
is first rate. Production is very uneven, with the camerawork better
than the Mexican Tisse.

The film ends leaving everything fine in Mexico, and there is
not a word about the peons of whom so much was heard in the
earlier reels, not a word about their continued exploitation by busi-
ness interests. Comparison with October should prove interesting
and should go further to convince those at the crossroads of cinema
that the film is not an art nor an entertainment, but an instrument
of propaganda.

D. F. Taylor.

SCARLET EMPRESS

Production and Distribution: Paramount. Direction: Josef von Sternberg.
Photography: Bert Glennon. With Marlene Dietrich, John Lodge,
Sam Jaffe, Louise Dresser. Length, 8,806 feet.

Seldom has there been a picture so reminiscent of other pictures.
Almost every scene brings thoughts of Lubitsch, Stroheim, Dupont,
Garmes, Mamoulian and even the surrealist Bunuel; inasmuch that
this glamorous, sadistic fabrication appears one long procession of
derivative ideas. Yet you cannot help laughing at Sternberg for
his undisguised showman's tactics, his fake artistic clap-trap and
his succulent debaucheries of photographic slickness; although
here he is a Sternberg far removed from the simple days of Salvation
Hunters and Docks of New York. Experience has taught him extrava-
gance. Not one candle but a thousand ; not one honest-to-god rape
but a skilfully staged scene of perversion. He has reached that
delectable state of ecstasy when he can throw away a twenty-five
hundred dollar shot on a two-foot wipe and never move a muscle.
Decadence indeed.

Comparison with Korda's Catherine the Great is as inevitable as it
is instructive, and it is diverting to inspect two directors' handling of
similar situations. Whereas the Korda-Czinner approach was gentle

251

and courteous, Sternberg's is brutal and exaggerated, revealing the
effect of local environment on production. Sternberg's colossus con-
tains every vice of the Hollywood firmament yet still contrives to
achieve a more persuasive atmosphere than Korda's restraint and
accuracy. But Dietrich's Catherine falls in the chocolate-box class
whereas Bergner, although miscast, brought at least a cultured
ability to her playing. A word must be said for the continuity which
moves with tremendous pace of visuals and a clashing of bells and
fanfares of trumpets. If you can stomach the gross over-acting, the
monstrous leering background and the superficial direction, you may
find moments of interest even though it requires a mounted Dietrich
leading a cavalry charge up the palace staircase to the accompani-
ment of the Valkyrie Ride to stir you. Glennon's photography is
luscious and the sound tempestuous.

Paul Roth a.

WINGS OVER EVEREST {British. G.—B.). This record of the
Houston Mount Everest Flight is unique among the quarter's
documentaries. It provides us with views seen by no man other
than the four flyers. In the film the material taken on the two
flights over Everest and the one over Kanchenjunga has been com-
bined and the shots of the Roof of the World, of Everest among its
seventy sister-peaks, of the mass of icy mountains rising into the
sky, have a value and impressiveness which would withstand the
most indifferent presentation. There are certainly shortcomings
in treatment : prolonged sequences describing preparations ; an
artificially filmed interlude depicting an accident to the cameraman ;
and an unconvincing suggestion that the construction of two aero-
planes affected the unemployment figures in Britain. But these
are offset by the economical handling of the Indian sequences, the
reproduction of the modest and workmanlike character of the
expedition and the effective restraint of Lord Clydesdale's comments
after the flight : " Did you get there ? " A nod. " What's it like ? "
" All right." We forget any previous shortcomings in the magnifi-
cence of the Everest sequences. Two shots are outstanding : the
panorama across the mountain tops, with Everest and Makalu
in the distance ; and the comparative close-up of the north-east
ridge by which the climbers have made their approaches to the
crest. S. R. Bonnett's camerawork is consistently fine and the
commentary does no obtrude. An important and impressive addition
to the growing group of Everest pictures.

F.H.

252

GUIDE TO FILM-GOING

THE BATTLE {French. Gaumont-Briiish) . An English version of a French film
adapted from Claude Farrere's novel and directed by Nicolas Farkas, camerman
on Don Quixote. An artificial quality marrs the melodrama but the spectacular
battle scenes are authentic and Farkas ensures that the film is always interesting
pictorially. Charles Boyer in Sessue Hayakawa's part and Merle Oberon act
with strength and sincerity.

BLACK MAGIC (German. British Lion). A folk tale of the Malayan island of
Bali, directed by Friedrich Dalsheim and Victor von Plessing, with native music
and dialogue. A naive story of primitive superstition gives the film unity and
allows for a fascinating description of life on the island, with its striking religious
ceremonial and curious trance dances. Finely photographed, exciting to listen
to and put together with a sound sense of documentary.

CRAINQUEBILLE {French). The veteran Baroncelli's sound version of Anatole
France's story, done as a notable silent by Feyder. It has atmosphere and observa-
tion, good characterisation and humour, although cinematically it is slow going.
A Starevitch puppet sequence is clumsily inserted, striking the wrong note for
such a dream sequence which Feyder achieved so well in Les Nouveaux Messieurs.

CRIME ON THE HILL {British. B.I.P.). A murder mystery of familiar
type, interesting for the distinctive treatment of Bernard Vorhaus, a director
rapidly attaining a position of importance in the studios. A film full of technical
ingenuities is directed with a sincerity rare in British pictures.

DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY {American. Paramount). A moving and im-
pressive adaptation of Alberto Casella's play describing in psychological terms
the events of three days spent on earth by Death in search of the source of mortal
fear among men. Mitchell Leisen's exceptionally sensitive direction and the
carefully controlled performances of an able cast secure a compelling expression
of the author's theme, to whose peculiar qualities the film proves more sympathetic
than the stage. After a whirlwind opening newT to the play, movement dwindles
but the theme does not become lost in a welter of words. A sincere gesture by
Hollywood towards a more intelligent cinema.

EMPEROR JONES {American. United Artists). Theatrically conceived, naively
directed, Paul Robeson's personality surmounts Dudley Murphey's amateurish
handling of this O'Neill subject and in flashes reveals the tremendous screen
presence that one day he may achieve.

IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT {American. Columbia). Frank Capra, most skilful
of Hollywood's craftsmen, expends his talent in telling vivaciously and ingeniously
the story of a tenacious reporter who, to secure a scoop, follows a runaway heiress
across America in a transcontinental bus. An overlong account is kept enter-
taining through Capra's persuasive direction and the interpolation of several
quite brilliantly observed sequences of which the hitch-hiking episode is the
chief. Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable.

PECHEUR DTSLANDE {French. Beacon). A stagey adaptation by Pierre
Guerlais of Pierre Loti's novel, descriptive of the hardships endured by the
Breton fisherfolk. A director out of sympathy with his medium has handled
the story as if it were a stage play : people emote in front of the camera and talk
endlessly. Some of the incidental shots are lovely, the atmosphere of the fishing
village is effectively conveyed and there is a fine performance by Yvette Guilbert.

253

PRENEZ GARDE A LA PEINTURE (French. Beacon). The French version
of the original play on which " The Late Christopher Bean " is based, directed
by Henri Chomette, who is more successful than was Hollywood in retaining
the wit and subtlety of Rene Fauchois's conception. The mentality of the
French bourgeois family is effectively represented and Charlotte Clasis's inter-
pretation of the dead painter's mistress is a moving performance.
TWENTIETH CENTURY (American. Columbia). A super-charged performance
by John Barrymore in an ingeniously satirical adaptation of "Napoleon of Broad-
way," depicting the clash of wills between a grotesquely temperamental stage
producer and the star he creates but cannot control. Written with a malicious
sense of humour by Charles MacArthur and Ben Hecht and resourcefully directed
by Howard Hawks.

UNFINISHED SYMPHONY (Austrian). Sweet nonsense along familiar lines
of Schubert's romance treated with sentimental direction and sincere playing.
Nothing is achieved, nothing is lost, but it is a picture which disarms attack and
thwarts defence by its sheer softness.

SEND YOUR QUERIES TO CQ.

# TECHNICAL INFORMATION

on ail points regarding apparatus, projection, cameras, exhibition, etc., will be answered free
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ANOTHER CQ. SERVICE FOR READERS

FILM SOCIETIES

Before next season commences it is expected that several new societies will have
commenced operations. Aberdeen will have a Film Guild, of which the Hon.
Secretary is J. M. Mitchell, 70, High Street, Old Aberdeen. In Ipswich a
Film Society is being organized by Gordon C. Hales, 36 Constable Road, Ipswich.
An Inverness Film Society is also proposed and communications should be sent
to John Mitchell, Royal Bank Buildings, Inverness. Before long similar societies
are hoped to be functioning in Bristol, Bo'ness, and Dunfermline.

As always, the help and advice of Cinema Quarterly are at the service of the
movement, and anyone wishing to form a local film society is welcome to apply for
any information that may be required.

Cinema Quarterly Film Service, of which particulars will be found on another
page, has been founded as the result of numerous requests received at this office
from film societies, educational bodies, clubs and institutes, and is an attempt
to simplify the somewhat harassing problem of film supply with which all organisers
of special performances are faced. Member societies of the Federation of British
Film Societies, of course, will continue to book through the Federation those
films for which it makes special arrangements. The Cinema Quarterly Service,
so far as it concerns the film societies, is intended to supplement" the Federation's
arrangements and will no doubt be found of great convenience in the booking
of films which, though rented through the usual trade channels, often entail
prolonged negotiations.

THE FILM SOCIETY, 56 Manchester Street, London, W.i. April 15th. La Vie
D'Un Fleuve. Two French publicity films. Pirates du Rhone. Mail. Crainquebille .
May 6th. Film Favourites No. 1. Das Testament von Dr. Mabuse.
CHILDREN'S FILM SOCIETY has been formed to provide carefully selected
programmes of films for children. The first group is operating in connection
with the Everyman, Hampstead, and is under the direction of J. S. Fairfax-
Jones, G. F. Noxon, and C. Lawson-Reece. It arranges matinees on lines similar

Q54

to these given in past seasons by the Edinburgh Film Guild. The subscription for
six shows is ios. ; guest tickets 2s. 6d.

CROYDON FILM SOCIETY, 51 High Street, Croydon. April 15th. Uberfall
(Film Soc). Pacific 231 (Film Soc). Cargo from Jamaica (G.P.O.). Cable Ship
(G.P.O.). En Natt (A.P.D.). April 29th. Trader Mickey (United). Is Gretna
Green? (G.-B.). Ballet Aida (Filmophone). Rain (Film Soc). Tempest (G.-B.).
EDINBURGH FILM GUILD, 17 S. St. Andrew Street, Edinburgh, 2. Mar.
25th. Two Paramount News-reels. Cargo from Jamaica (G. P.O.). Granton Trawler
(G.P.O). Island of Perils (Wardour). Finding His Voice (West. Elec). Tabu
(Paramount). April 8th. County of the White Rose (Film. Soc). Schufftan Shots
(Process Prod.). Harlequin (Film Soc). Tonende Handschrift (Film Soc). La
Maternelle (Film Soc). April 20th. General Meeting. White Hell of Pitz Palu
(Pathescope, sub-standard).

LEICESTER FILM SOCIETY. Vaughan College, Leicester. March 17th.
Paris Markets (Film Soc). Canterbury (G.-B.). La Maternelle (Film Soc). May
1 1 th. General Meeting. Fall of the House of Usher. Rein que les Hemes.
MAIDSTONE FILM SOCIETY has completed a successful first season with a
comfortable financial balance. The final performance on April 15th. included
The Five Tear Plan, Fifteenth October, and Doss House.

MANCHESTER AND SALFORD WORKERS' FILM SOCIETY, 29 Liverpool
Street, Salford. April 21st. £uyderzee Werks (Film Soc.) Carmen (Film Soc).
Zuts' Cartoon (Film Soc). Potemkin (Arcos). This society is at present converting a
disused basement into an experimental studio and projection theatre.
MERSEYSIDE FILM INSTITUTE SOCIETY, Bluecoat Chambers, Liverpool.
April 13th. Captain of Coepenick (Film Soc). Hungarian Dance (Filmophone). A
short documentary. Disney Cartoon. May 8th. Talk by Ingram Knowles on the
Amateur Film-Maker. May 15th. F. Wilkinson on the Film in Education. As
this society finds difficulty in obtaining suitable films for its special shows the policy
in regard to future shows is at present under review.

OXFORD UNIVERSITY FILM SOCIETY. April 29th. Upstream (G.P.O.) .
Mascot (Electa). Building a Building (United). Bed and Sofa (Arcos). May 13th.
Cargo from Jamaica (G.P.O.). Windmill in Barbados (G.P.O.). Mickey's Choo Choo
(United). Carmen (Film Soc). Hans Westmar. May 27th. Un Monastere (Film
Soc). Charlemagne. June 10th. Turbulent Timber {G.-B.). Busy Beavers (United).
Noah's Ark (United). Ekstase (Film Soc).

TYNESIDE FILM SOCIETY, Literary and Philosophical Society, Newcastle,
has completed a successful first season, which has included private Sunday
performances, children's shows, and lectures. Next season will open with an
exhibition of stills and it is hoped that film work with children will be further
developed.

CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS NUMBER

G. R. CLARK. One of the G.P.O. Film Unit.

JOHN GRIERSON. At present supervising production of a film for the B.B.C.

C. R. JONES. Film student associated with several amateur productions.

ERIC M. KNIGHT. Film editor of the "Philadelphia Public Ledger."

HELEN SCHOENI. A New York journalist who has made a study of Russian

cinema.

BERTHOLD VIERTEL. Director of The Wig, Nora and Adventures of a Ten-Mark

Note in Germany of The Wise Sex and The Man from Yesterday \\\ Hollywood; and of

Little Friend for Gaumont-British at Shepherd's Bush.

BASIL WRIGHT. A member of the G.P.O. Film Unit. Engaged on cutting

material brought from Ceylon.

55

THE

INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKER

Official Organ of The Independent Film-Makers Association

^IFMA

The Ifma has two very definite functions. The first of these, that of
providing information and advice, is working overtime. This is
as it should be. The second function is to collect information from
members about their work and plans and to make this information
available to other members.

At first sight this may seem superfluous ; actually it is not. Every
amateur is always coming up against difficulties in the surmounting
of which he acquires knowledge which can be of very definite use
to others.

To co-ordinate this information a Bulletin will shortly be issued
to be followed by others at intervals of three months unless enough
news is received to warrant a more frequent issue.

The Ifma will be glad to receive notes about your work for pub-
lication in this Bulletin. It may be a technical trick that you have
discovered or it may be an appeal for information about a location
or a subject for a script. Please look upon this Bulletin as an
opportunity to express yourself on any subject connected with the
cinema.

SUMMER SCHOOL

Plans for the summer school have been completed and full
particulars will appear in the first Bulletin. It is to be held at
Digswell Park, Welwyn, the first week-end in August. All the
advisers have given their provisional consent to attend the school.
One of them will take out a working party. Another criticise
member's films. Another will bring down a film he has made and
give a talk on it.

So many members have intimated their intention of being
present that the Association would like to make its final arrange-
ments for accommodation as soon as possible. A limited number of
non-members will be accepted (on payment of a small sup-
plementary fee), but application must be made immediately.

256

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MEMBERS' FILMS

S. B. Carter has made some publicity films for the National
Farmers' Union Mutual Insurance Society to show farmers the
benefits obtainable by taking out an insurance policy. There were
three of these films and it was interesting to see how the director's
grasp had become firmer with each succeeding film. Although they
cannot be said to be completely successful they do give the impression
that he will eventually achieve a style of his own, a style which will
be all the better for having sprung from him and not from outside.
H. Homer has a film taken on two cruising holidays. Here the
director had been swept from place to place too quickly to allow of
more than a fragmentary impression to be obtained. Witness his
handling of the Kiel canal — here he had more time and the result was
excellent. His atmosphere shots were particularly good. Some
early morning shots of sea across stretches of sand and two or three
shots in an Italian village were very lovely.

For review in next issue. — L. Broadbent's film of the Channel Isles.
H. Compton-Bennet's Down She Goes, a film on tree-felling, and
extracts from work in progress : provisional title, Black Daisies. Peter
Le Neve Foster's A Movie Maker in Moscow.

m

The Ifma has taken over the scenario service which was run by

Cinema Quarterly. There are several scripts available for production

by amateurs. Three are by Jay Leyda who is now working for

G.I.K. in the U.S.S.R. His film A Bronx Morning has been shown by

many of the film societies.

Leslie Beisiegel is at work on several scripts and would be pleased

to hear from any member with a view to co-operating.

Dorset Amateur Film Productions is making a publicity film of

Weymouth. It will be shot during the summer and is scheduled to

finish by October when it will be available on loan. This society

is also making a film called Control which deals with the making and

control of robots.

Will anyone possessing a 9.5 mm. printer and willing to co-operate

with another member kindly communicate with the Hon. Secretary?

AMATEUR FILMS AT VENICE.

The Cine Club Venezia has been entrusted to organize an exhibition
of sub-standard films for La Bienniale d' Arte at Venice in August.
Suitable awards will be made for the best films submitted. In-
dependent Film-makers and other amateurs who have films of an
unusual or experimental nature which they would like to enter
should communicate immediately with Dr. Francesco Pasinetti,
San Polo 2196, Venice, Italy.

259

EXPERIMENT FOR AMATEURS

FILMS TO MUSIC

G. R. CLARK

Towards the close of the silent era, directors were beginning to put
considerable store upon the accompaniments to their films. They
were no longer content with the patchwork arrangements that local
bandsmen turned out from the theatre repertoire, and were coming
to realise the importance of a complete score written specially for
the picture. A number of commissions went out to accredited com-
posers and Edmund Meisel responded with excellent scores for
Potemkin, October and The Blue Express. In Britain, no lesser man than
Goossens was responsible for the music for The Constant JVympk,
while Reisenfeld in America was giving his attention to spectacles
like Ben Hur. For the first time an intelligent liaison was being
created between picture and sound.

With the coming of talking machinery however, directors dis-
carded music and pinned their faith in the spoken word, vaguely
believing that speech was a better means of holding attention than
the musical scale. But with the inevitable exhaustion accruing from
incessant speech, the pendulum is to-day swinging back again and
there are signs of returning sanity. Quite recently we have had the
commendable efforts of Dr. Becce in the Riefenstahl pictures and in
the exciting Ufa short, Steel. White Smoke is particularly interesting
for the telling use of leit-motif. The score is built round a short phrase
— the love theme — played at the outset by horns. This is developed
as the film progresses together with secondary subjects. Towards
the end the orchestral texture becomes more and more involved,
coincident with the image, and in the final working out, when the
orchestra bursts into a joyful dance measure, an added intensity
is given to the visual climax.

It may be argued that this is not a very original use of sound, nor
that it breaks any new ice so far as sound and picture is concerned.
Nevertheless it is important in that it endeavours to effect a definite
unity between the visual and the aural. It tries to link a sequence of
events together, not by their associable sounds, but by a musical
substance possessing an individual quality apart from the
picture. It gives a double image and an added point to the argument
of the picture, though it is worked out according to its particular
canons. It is possible to visualise a future cinema in which the

260

director is no longer a snipper of celluloid, but a composer who
develops his script concurrently with his score, and conceives his
film, not as a series of images alone, but with a complementary
counterpoint of sound. This sound may not be music alone. It
may be the crash of machinery, the battering of pneumatic drills,
the howl of the wind, or the cry of a new-born child. It may in fact
be any of the myriad sounds that are part and parcel of our daily
life.. The vocabulary of music itself may be expanded and instru-
ments made to produce visual notes far removed from concert
practice. But the director-composer will have to exercise his power
of selecting angle, distance and composition in the same way as he
did pictorially. He may orchestrate his final sound band with com-
pletely synthetic tone by means of distortion, dissolving and super-
imposition of note upon note.

It is in this direction that the amateur may experiment. The
arrival of sound probably dissuaded him from any attempts at
synchronisation, and until the cost of sound recording comes within
practical limit, he has no doubt regarded silent films as his only
means of expression. But there exists a vast field of recorded music
for him to explore, from which he can extract material for the syn-
chronisation of his pictures, the only outlay being the cost of the
records. And besides music there are effects records from which can
be built up extremely interesting accompaniments. And to-day it
is possible to have re-recorded any particular parts of records that
are chosen, so that the complete accompaniment to a reel may be
contained on one disc.

And for those that are musically minded there is great scope for
writing original scores for their films. It is nearly always possible to
find two or three people at least who are capable of playing an
instrument of some description, and the music for the complete film
can be recorded at small cost. In this way a doubly interesting form
of expression exists. But whatever the amateur may do, he is safe in
the knowledge that he is not denied experiment, and in this direction
his scope is wider than that of the greatest commercial studio.

I F M A THE INDEPENDENT FILM-MAKERS ASSOCIATION

For all serious workers interested in the production of
Documentary, Experimental or Educational Films.

Advisers: Anthony Asquith, Andrew Buchanan, John Grierson,
Alan Harper, Stuart Legg, Paul Rotha, Basil Wright.

Write for a Hon. Sec, G. A. SHAW, 32 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, W.l

Prospectus.

Q61

RUSSIAN CLASSICS ON 16 MM

Initiated last December as a section of the Workers' Theatre
Movement, KINO commenced operations by securing the sub-
standard rights for all Soviet Films, and proceeded to issue Potemkin
on 1 6 mm. non-flam stock. This was hired out to local organiza-
tions, to be shown in unlicensed halls and was such a success that
it paid for itself in two months. In February The General Line was
issued and shown in a similar way throughout Britain.

As was to be expected, in view of its not having a Board of
Censors' Certificate, there has been a great deal of trouble from
the authorities whenever a show of Potemkin has come to their
knowledge. There is, of course, no law to stop the showing of non-
flam films in premises not licensed for cinematograph performances,
but the L.C.C. (or other Council), together with the Police, often
succeed in getting hall proprietors to cancel the bookings. This,
although it may cause considerable inconvenience, worry and extra
expense to the organisers, rarely has the desired result of preventing
anyone from seeing the film. In almost every case, the show has
been given either on the same day or else a few days later —
generally to a greatly enlarged audience, the extra numbers being
due to the free publicity given by the authorities.

For next season it is hoped to have twelve or fourteen films avail-
able, including some of KINO'S own shorts. Among these will
possibly be : —October, Storm over Asia, Mother, St. Petersburg, Deserter,
Enthusiasm, Earth, Turksib, The Blue Express, Ivan, Golden Mountains,
Komsomol, Ghost that Never Returns, and The Road to Life.

Enquiries should be addressed to KINO, 33 Ormond Yard,
London, W.C.i.

NEW PROJECTOR

A new sound-on-film projector using 17.5 mm. film has been
marketed by Pathescope. The film has one row of perforations
and one perforation per frame. The additional 1.5 mm. over 16 mm.
allows the sound track to be the same size as on standard film and
still provides a larger picture area. The same lamp is used both
for projection and illumination of the sound track. Power is
obtainable from any ordinary lamp socket on A.C. mains with a
consumption as low as 2^ amps. A special shutter gives flickerless
projection of pictures up to 10 feet wide.

P.S. — ARE YOU COMING TO THE IFMA SUMMER SCHOOL?

2.62.

INDEX TO VOLUME 2

Activity in Belgium. Ludo Pat i is
Adaptation : An Example.

Clifford Leech
Anna und Elisabeth
Arnheim, Rudolf

Film and Radio

( lermany on the Screen .
Art and Reproduction, G. F. Daltori
Art of Walt Disney

Mack W. Schwa I) .

Balcon, Michael

Function of the Producer

Battle

Bitter Sweet ....

Black Magic ....

Blood Money ....

Brown, Jenny. Rugged Island .
Buchanan, Andrew.

Choosing a Subject

Catherine the (heat
Cavalcanti, Alberto

Ethics for Movie
Choosing a Subject

Andrew Buchanan
Cinematic Colour

Mack W. Schwab .
Camera Turns on History

Philip Lindsay
Clark, G. R. Films to Music
Clouds and Rain ....
Colour Of It. Pennethorne Hughes
Commercial Documentary

H. Bruce Woolfe
Contact .....

Crainquebille ....

Crime on the Hill ....

Dalton, G. F.

Art and Reproduction

Poet and the Film .

Thoughts on Montage
Decent Documents. Forsyth Hard}
Death lakes a Holiday
Deserter ....
Design for Living .
Documentary (3). John Grierson
Duck Soup ....

Elliott, Erie. Whither Colour?
"Embfu."

Working Plan for Sub-Standard

Emperor Jones ....
Ethics for Movie

Alberto Cavalcanti. Smart Legg
Everjicoman s Man

233

30

[<"><,

'•1
1 6g

J73

150

5

2.53
48

253

249

i77

i95

186

166

195

237

10
260
198

16

96

47

253

253

173

33

- ;<">

-' i"

253

116

188

155

189

161

[9

253

166
190

I'.ki or Fiction ? Fors) th 1 tardy
Film Abroad . :6, roi, [69,

Film and Radio. Rudolf Arnheim
Filming in Ceylon. Basil Wright .
Film in Sout li Africa

H. R. van der Poel
Film on Paper. Stuart Leg
Films of the Quarter 37, iu. 179,240

Film Societies . 50, 126, 10,1,254

Films to Music. G.R.Clark
Footlight Parade ....
Four brightened Pen/)/,' .
French Movie To-da)

D. F. Taylor
Function of the Director

Berthold Viertel
Function of the Director

Paul Rotha ....
Function of the Producer

Michael Balcon, John Grierson

Germany on the Screen

Rudolf Arnheim
Golden Harvest ....
G.P.O. Gets Sound. John Grierson
Grierson, John

Function of the Producer

G.P.O. Gets Sound

Pudovkin on Sound

Symphonic Film

Hardy, Forsyth

Films of the Quarter 37, 112, 179, 240
Hitchcock, Allied

Interviewed by Stephen Watts .
House of Rothschild
Hughes, Pennethorne. Colour Of It
1 lumber- Hi 11 man ....
Hunted People ....

Independent Film-Maker

61, 129, 194, 256
International Film

Alexander Korda .
Invisible Man ....
// Happened One Night .
/ Was .1 Spy ....

Jones, C. R.

Stage People and FilmThings .

Knight. Eric M.

No M<»re Film Plays !
Rampant Reformers
S\ nthetic Amei tea

Leech, Clifford

Adaptations: An Example
Legg, Stuart. Ethics for Movie

Film on Paper . . . 131

'7f»

233
84

2 ! 1

104
131

200

!25
[90

26

Jul)

78

If..,
190

215

5

215

Kit)

80

243
16

64

122

12
[90

253

1"

6l
227

87

30

I oh

INDEX — -continued

Leibelei

• •

190

Lindsay, Philip

Camera Turns on History

10

MacDiarmid, Hugh

Poetry and Film

146

Mala the Magnificent

187

Man of Aran

245

Mascot

190

Maternelle .

118

Mayor of Hell

123

Mickefs Gala Premiere .

49

Miscellany . 30, 106, 173

. 237

Monastere .....

190

Music in Films. Alfred Hitchcock .

80

Night Flight ....

190

No More Film Plays!

Eric M. Knight

61

October

246

Ordonnance .....

190

Outer Isles .....

198

Oxford University Film Society

50

Patris, Ludo. Activity in Belgium .

233

Pecheur dTslande ....

253

Petit Roi .....

190

Poel, H. R. van der

Film In South Africa

104

Poet and the Film

G. F. Dalton, Herbert Read

33

Poetry and Film

Hugh MacDiarmid

146

Poil de Carotte ....

121

Private Life of Henry VIII

39

Production Methods in Soviet Russia

Helen Schoeni

210

Pudovkin on Sound. John Grierson

106

Queen Christina ...

185

Rampant Reformers.

Eric M. Knight

227

Read, Herbert. Poet and the Film

35

Rebel

46

Road to Hell ....

67

Roadwards .....

64

Rotha, Paul

Function of the Director

78

Rugged Island. Jenny

Brown

177

Scarlet Empress ....
Schoeni, Helen

Production Methods in Soviet
Russia ....

251

210

Schwab, Mack W.

Art of Walt Disney

Cinematic Colour .
Screen Magazines. D. F. Taylor .
Simms, Thomas.

We Turn to History
Song of Songs ....
S.O.S. Iceberg ....
Soviet WYiter Takes To Cinema

Alexander Werth .
Spectator

Norman Wilson . 2, 75, 143.
Spring on the Farm ...
Stage People and Film Things

C. R. Jones ....
Stranger's Return ....
Symphonic Film. John Grierson .
Synthetic America

Eric M. Knight

Taylor, D. F.

French Movie To-day

Screen Magazines .
Thoughts on Montage

G. F. Dalton
Thunder Over Mexico
Tugboat Annie
Twentieth Century
Twenty-Six Commisars

Unfinished Symphony

Viertel, Berthold

Function of the Director

Viva Villa!

Wandering Jew ....
Watts, Stephen

Alexander Korda (Interviewed)

Alfred Hitchcock (Interviewed)
Werth, Alexander

Soviet Writer Takes To Cinema
We Turn To History

Thomas Simms
Whither Colour? Eric Elliott
Whither Germany? .
Wilson, Norman

Spectator . . 2, 75,

Wings Over Everest
Woolfe, H. Bruce

Commercial Documentary
Working Plan for Sub-Standard
Wright, Basil. Filming in Ceylon

150

237
93

1 1 1

44
124

101

203
49

222
48

155
87

26
93

238
182

47

254
48

254

206
250

125

12
80

101

1 1 1
161
188

%oo in Budapest

H3> 203
252

96

19
231

45

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Autumn Presentation: FRITZ LANG'S "DR MABUSE"

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SCENARIO

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The main purpose of the magazine, which is beautifully printed, is to
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Stories wanted for publication in above.

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