TE AWAMUTU MARCHES ON

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 56, Issue 4016, 23 February 1938, Page 6

TE AWAMUTU MARCHES ON

SMALL BUT SIGNIFICANT. IMPRESSIONS OF “REWI’S LAST STAND." (Contributed.) The local interest shown in the filming of “Rewi’s Last Stand” has wider applications than that of mere amusement in a novelty: for the essence of a novelty is to leave us very much as it found us. No lasting, impression is made: no richness is added to. our fund of experience. But for the people who took part in, and for those who watched, the making of the “talkie,” everyday experience was widened. A new experience could be discussed with friends and home folk. WHAT HAPPENED. A new world opened out before the speettftor. A world that hitherto had been as unreal as fairyland. The magic of the purring camera which brings us Hollywood. The insignificant round object—the microphone, that brings us the voice of Grace Moore and Jeanette McDonald in one night. But how much more thrilling is it to be in front of it? That is an experience worth while; it is to make one feel one really exists and is part of that magic world that comes to us when we go to the “movies.” AN ACTOR AT 74 That was what Tom thought. And he is seventy-four! For fifty years he had worked on the one station. Way back, longer than most of us know of, Tom came to Te Awamutu when men wore side whiskers and chewed tobacco. Had you told him then he would some day act the part of a waggoner in a talkie .... well you can guess what he would eall you! But you would have been right, for he played the part he once did in-bygone years, as many others did. Did he enjoy it? Let him speak for himself. “How did I like it ? Say, this is worth livin’ for: its somethin’ d’frent. I niver thought them old days of waggon drivin* wus so important. What! me a movie star? No, I g'Uess I’m too old. . . . But this here actin’ crikey! Its great.” And that was what the other settlers who took the part of “extras” thought. To get out of the clothes one wore in the cowshed, or in which we rounded up the sheep, and step into the garb of a Forest Ranger, with a bowie knife in one’s belt and a pork pie hat on the side of the head. Well, one felt different. Not like putting on one’s best to go to town. But just as though one were having a holiday in a dream where we are all heroes. WHAT WAS DONE. The ordinary routine work of the day was laid aside; the cares of the farm and the confusion of the outside of the world were as unimportant as they are in our day-dreams. From mending fences, cutting wood and bellowing calves, we turned to forgotten years when we played at soldiers. In that world we were supremely happy because we had created it at will. Before the camera, that happiness returned. Superior people may smile in what they regard as a superior way; but they secretly know the joy of playing soldiers. And when a man can lay aside the serious things and enter in with others to the creation of an imaginary world where the deeds of our grandfathers are chronicled that man is worth his salt. He has within him the artistry and imagination that conquers the difficulties of the wayside; he has within him sympathy and understanding to appreciate a way of life and times different from his own. As a district Te Awamutu might well congratulate itself that it has men who can leave not only the farm, but also the office, and take part in one of the most technical productions—a talkie. WHY IMPORTANT. There is no one but will agree that the film to-day is a potent force in education and social life. Writers and educationalists from time to time stress what can be done per medium of the film. Not least among the advantages is the opportunity for self expression of the adult and as a method of participating in a co-operative work of art. By so doing is learnt the important truth that “art” is not some sacred deity that can be approached only 1 through a wealth of ponderous study. But rather that true art is the expression of men and women who are all artists whether they be in the cowshed, office, or wool shed. We are all artists. Life makes us such. But circumstances deprive us opportunity to reveal what we can do. By venturing out in the production of the picture Te Awamutu has carried New Zealand along the' road to the creation of an art of her own. How far she will go before the centenary milestone is reached is unknown. But to have made the step may be as important in the next hundred years of our history as was the introduction ot the refrigerator in the century we shall soon bring to a close. At any rate, those folk who took part in the production of “Rewi’s Last Stand" know that life will be richer to them and that the creation of a film art . in the Dominion is not a fad. but a necessity. WORK GOING AHEAD. Although the camera is silent, Mr Rudall Hayward is far from being idle. Before going on to "location ” the scenes to be taken have to be mapped out into what is known as a “production sheet”; this is a detailed outline of what has to be done, what worn by actors, and what properties necessary. In Hollywood the work is in the hands of a highly paid specialist known as the Production Manager who works in close collaboration with the Director.