FILM SOCIETY'S COLUMN

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 15, 18 January 1930, Page 5 (Supplement)

FILM SOCIETY'S COLUMN

THIS YEAR—NEXT YEAR.

THE ART OP THE PICTURE.

INTELLIGENT ACTING

(By ECRAN.)

The comments appearing in this weekly column will bear on the technique, directorship, drama, acting and any outstanding feature of any given picture, and are in substance the combined criticisms of the society's representatives, authorised and accredited by the Film Society's executive; but the articles "will be the expression of personal opinions of individual members.

The film is strongest in its own. province of narrative and spectacle. That is why novels "picturise" better than stage-plays. But I am somewhat suspicious of adaptations; they too often spoil a good book to make a •bad movie. "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" was an honest and "straight" adaptation in excellent taste, and managed to preserve a good deal of the charm of the book. Honest, again, was the treatment of "The Greene Murder Case"; but the rather unsatisfactory •book was further weakened by the inevitable loss of Vance's reasoning. "The Four Feathers" was a good deal changed, but it made a good film. "Behind That Curtain" suffered violence, and the film, in spite of some great merits, lost coherence.

This has been a conspicuous fault in recent adaptations. There have been too many loose threads in the. fabric — people and incidents that contribute nothing to the crisis of the action; or the complications and crises have, been inadequately motivated; or the balance has 'been bad—a leisurely hour of exposition and preparation leading up to a fevered ten minutes of hectic action. Or again, clues are suppressed, and mystery becomes mystification. "Blockade," for example, had much pictorial beauty and great possibilities of excitement; but the identity of "Caravan" was concealed until the last few minutes, and the strongest situations fell flat because the public had no idea what the situations were. . ' I confess that I like exciting films (I enjoyed "The Unholy Night" immensely). But that is not the chief reason why I only partially sympathise with the cropland for "real life." I am not quite clear, indeed, what •is meant. No one, surely, would care to see a picture of your "real life" or mine. A selection of real incidents, put together ■to make a story? But even this minimum of artistic treatment produces something different from tlie muddle of sordid cares And trivial satisfactions which we "really" live, and from which we seek an hour's relief at the cinema. It would be no 'bad thing if we had more film-stories of average experience—provided they could be made interesting. Certainly we could do with less distortion and over-colouring, less crime and less sex-obsession. We must have love-stories, of course, 'but need every story of adventure ot "mystery" be complicated with the naive "romance of two loving hearts sundered for want of a word that any rational being would speak in the first five minutes J, I do not see why we should not have stones of passion,"sanely and honestly treated; but why so much stale squalid, wantonness? Crime-stories, perhaps, we must have;, but need the youngsters see them, and need the crimes be so sordid? We cannot yet expect from films such an interpretation of life as we receive from the great dramatists of the stage It may come. But meanwhile the most, and the least, that we can demand of a film is that it shall not tell lies about life—that the situation presented before us shall develop in a reasonable way, within the limits of probability, without degrading fine things or glorifying what is foul. Apart from such dishonesty, 1 can see no objection to melodrama. The film has not yet learnt to interest us in the development and subtle interplay oi character that make tragedy or high comedy. But there need be nothing unhealthy or inartistic in the drama of situation and incident, in the appeal to the old simple hopes and fears, loves and loyalties, the self-sacrifice of lover or comrade or mother, the belief in something good in the worst of us, the faith that justice will in the end prevail. The evil thing is the falsification of the laws and decencies of life; and under this condemnation fall not only the machine-made melodrama, but the vulgar idiocy of many comedies, and the arbitrary happy ending. Consider, for instance, the ending of "Redskin. Up to a certain point, it is a distinguished film; it presents with power and sympathy the social problem (we have it here, too) of the native with a white education, 1 rejected by the racial Prejudice of thase whose culture and ideals he shares, alienated by these ideals from his brothers in blood. It moves on, not to a solution (it has not been found), but to a logical conclusion of dignity and pathos. But that will not do! Wirig-foot must "strike oil," and with all the appurtenances of "Western drama," the omnipotent dollar must make the outcast a social leader and th> ancestral enemies one happy family. Acting seems to be growing more natural and intelligent. We have had some moments of real insight and subtlety, a number of powerful characterisations, a few almost perfect casts. We need not despair of the films. Last year gave, us much to enjoy and much to approve. This year has made a go. beginning.