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The Spike or Victoria University College Review September 1927

The New Art II. — A Reply to C.Q.P

The New Art II.

A Reply to C.Q.P.

The first impression one gets from reading over C.Q.P.'s effort on "The New Art," is that C.Q.P., although he may know a great deal about the stage and about stage art, knows little about the present-day screen and its technique. Furthermore, one gains the impression that what he does know about the screen, he has picked up from a study of fifth rate melodrama, the worst of movie posters, and a diligent reading of, and naive belief in, the gaudy tinsel phrases with which such melodrama is heralded in the daily press. In effect, the case he attempts to make out against the screen is no more intelligent and no more critical than that which is put forward by the ignorant but well-meaning gentlemen and gentlewomen who periodically page 20 flock in large-sized deputations to urge the authorities to censor more strictly the film. Both cases are biassed, both are prejudiced—in the one case by moral considerations, in the other by "artistic" considerations. Indubitably C.Q.P.'s strictures apply to one class of film, the class, that is, of melodrama tinged with sex appeal, and pie throwing comedy. (Incidentally has C.Q.P. ever heard of block booking?) But with equal truth, a similar case could be made out against a similar class of stage productions. Neither sex titivation nor cheap comedy is unknown to the stage in whose defence C.Q.P. couches his quixotic lance. To such a patron of the drama as C.Q.P., this state of affairs on the stage must be so evident that one half wonders whether he is making fun of us. If so, he must pardon our being so serious minded. If not, if he really believes that the cinema taken by and large, is on the same level as cheese, beer and onions, one can but advise him first, to see such a picture as the U.F.A. production "Variety" and then second, to call back from their wanderings those critical faculties, the exercise of which we have usually been led to expect in him.

C.Q.P. tells us, for instance, that Valentino, Gloria Swanson, and Clara Bow, are the purveyors of the New Art. So they are. And so are Emil Jannings (perhaps C.Q.P. has neither seen nor heard of the great German actor?) Lon Chaney, Pauline Frederick, and Lya de Putti. The former class of stars may deserve all the heaps of coal that C.Q.P. so generously piles upon their heads. But the latter class—four among many—are fine artists, worthy of a place on any stage, and possessing that acting ability, adaptability, resource, intelligence, the alleged lack of which on the screen C.Q.P. bewails so forlornly, and which, presumably, he professes to find solely upon the stage. His failure to recognise these criteria of the good actor as evident on the screen shows in C.Q.P. a strange lack of perspicacity and an extraordinary amount of artistic blindness. One is tempted to remind C.Q.P. that even on that holy of holy's—the stage itself—all the actors and actresses are not Du Mauriers, Henry Irvings, Beerholm Trees, Sybil Thorndikes, Gwen Ffrangcon Davies, or Irene Vanbrughs. Besides these artists, there are others, good, bad or indifferent. Quite possibly, too, the more indifferent the actor, the greater the public worship—witness, for example, the esteem in which the public holds the Jim Geralds of the stage. C.Q.P. would be the first to protest against the injustice of judging the stage solely upon the performance of the Geralds and the Mutts and Jeffs. Yet is it not strange that he sees no injustice in holding the cinema up to scorn solely because "popular stars" such as Valentino and his tribe do not appeal to him? Is it not time that C.Q.P. found out that just as the stage possesses its Du Maurier to offset its Fullers artist, so likewise does the screen possess its Jannings to offset its Valentino? If C.Q.P. judges the artistic value of the screen from the performance of Clara Bow, let him judge the artistic value of the stage by visiting Fullers. At least let him be consistent.

One may be pardoned for asking C.Q.P. whether he has seen such pictures as "The Woman From Paris," "The Gold Rush," "The Big Parade," "The Waltz Dream," or "Variety." page 21 All these were splendid pictures. They are only a few that occur to memory at the moment. The last two, especially, were well acted, finely produced, and were as far removed from the ordinary slapstick melodrama as Shakespeare is from vaudeville. In all of them, there was more than crude plot. There was finished characterisation, harmony in the setting, dramatic tragedy of the highest artistic level. Moreover, Arnold Bennett and others of like literary talent—not the ex-editor, with whom C.Q.P. is so familiar—are now retained to write titles and subtitles for the film.

There is one final point. One looks in vain for any logic in the method whereby C.Q.P. deduces the worthlessness of screen acting from the alleged fact that screen actors, turning to the stage, would require to relearn their trade if they wished to become successful. It is possible that it is a moot question whether they would or not. But let that pass. The fact of the matter is, however, that even if they did require to relearn their trade (and probably stage actors turning to the screen would require to do likewise) this does not involve the artistic inferiority of the screen, when once it is recognised that the screen and the stage are far asunder in their media of expression and in their artistic technique—as far asunder as miniature portrait painting is from etching. One is tempted to ask C.Q.P whether he honestly believes that the expert of miniature portrait painting, because he would have to learn anew his trade if he wished to become a first-class etcher, is therefore a worthless artist, and his art scarcely the raw material of painting?

The conclusion to be drawn then, is this: That if C.Q.P. wishes to write smart copy on the film, and not, at the same time sacrifice critical accuracy to smartness, let him first get rid of all preconceived notions as to the a priori moral and artistic superiority of the stage over the cinema. Then let him study the technique of the film, let him appreciate its peculiar difficulties, let him go to the films, choosing his programmes judiciously so that he sees slush and slapstick together with fine artistry (just as a critic of modern music listens to jazz as well as to Debussy). Then, and only then, let him formulate his criticism. Quite possibly it would be more intelligent and more intelligible than it is in its present form.

—E.B.