Lia
 
 THE ART OF THE 
 PHOTOPLAY 
 
 BY 
 
 EUSTACE HALE BALL 
 
 lATE SCENARIO EDITOR, STAFF PLAYRIGHT AND DIRECTOR 
 
 FOR KEUANCE, ECLAIR, 80LAX, MAJESTIC, EXCELSIOR 
 
 AND OTHER COMPANIES; NOW PRESIDENT OF 
 
 THE HISTORICAL FILM COMPANY 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, igi3, by 
 EUSTACE HALE BALL 
 
 Press of 
 
 J. J. Little & Ives Co. 
 
 New York
 
 
 
 / 
 
 ,\, 
 
 That splendid band of good fellows : the Playwrights, '"^^T^'*^- 
 
 the Directors, the Actors, the Critics, the Editors, 
 
 the Publicity Men and the Owners who have 
 
 built up the motion picture industry to 
 
 its present success, ever fighting 
 
 for higher standards — 
 
 MY FELLOW-MEMBERS OF THE 
 SCREEN CLUB OF NEW YORK 
 
 this book is fraternally dedicated by the author. 
 
 G83'J>34
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Foreword 7 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Adventures of the Scenario 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Theme of the Photoplay . 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Dramatic Principle 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Mechanics of the Scenario. 64 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sample Scenarios 80 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Epilogue 116
 
 FOREWORD. 
 
 THE marvelous growth of motion pic- 
 ture drama during the last ten years 
 has reached the point where more than 
 seven million Americans attend the exhibi- 
 tions daily. The interest on the Continent is 
 even more marked. 
 
 It is conservatively estimated that not less 
 than ten thousand plays are produced yearly 
 in the United States. 
 
 This means that there is a constantly in- 
 creasing demand for the scripts from which 
 the plays are to be produced. 
 
 In the early days of the photoplay profes- 
 sion the directors adapted their own ideas 
 and crude indeed many of them were. The 
 field of melodrama and slapstick comedies 
 of familiar and ancient vintage soon became 
 exhausted. 
 
 The result was that the companies were 
 compelled to reach out for original scenarios 
 from fresher sources than the minds of the 
 over-worked producers. This developed a 
 definite market for good ideas, and as the 
 technique of production was improved in the 
 
 7
 
 8 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 studios, so grew the need for better scenarios. 
 With the rivalry of the increasing number of 
 companies grew more frequent releases. 
 
 So, to-day there is an absolute demand 
 for well-conceived, carefully written and 
 strongly original photoplay scripts dealing 
 with comic, tragic, historical, educational and 
 moral themes. There are more than ten 
 thousand needed for the coming year. The 
 staff playwrights are unable to keep up the 
 pace, and it is necessary to get new material 
 from all parts of the land to maintain fresh- 
 ness and undiminished appeal for the mil- 
 lions of enthusiastic photoplay spectators. 
 
 Ideas, unique and powerful, are valuable, 
 and although not written in scenario form 
 are very often well rewarded. Brief scripts, 
 outlining themes of potential dramatic 
 power are even more valuable, and can be 
 rewritten by the directors and scenario ed- 
 itors. 
 
 But the well-executed, thoroughly prac- 
 tical and professional type of photoplay 
 scenario, which can be handed to the produc- 
 ing director as it has been purchased, for 
 immediate and unaltered staging, without 
 the additional expense and delay of rewrit- 
 ing, is the one which is worth the most to a 
 motion picture company.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 9 
 
 It will bring the highest price. It will in- 
 still with the scenario editor, the director and 
 eventually the owner of the studio a desire 
 to have more scripts from that same capable 
 author. That desire means more sales, more 
 publicity for the photoplaywright, and 
 eventually a lucrative profession, of never- 
 stale, ever-improving opportunity. 
 
 The development of the technique of good 
 photoplay creation leads to a skill in dra- 
 matic composition which can be applied to 
 original compositions for theatrical produc- 
 tions and literary work of the broadest 
 nature. 
 
 To learn how a scenario is received and 
 produced, through the various stages of the 
 studio and outdoor work; to learn what are 
 its essentials ; to learn the technical needs of 
 the companies, and the drawing and selling 
 power of various kinds of motion picture 
 plays; to learn how to sell the themes and 
 their dramatic presentation to the best com- 
 panies is necessary for steady success. 
 
 To impart that knowledge, simply, hon- 
 estly, and with absolute practicality is the 
 purpose of this book.
 
 THE ART OF THE 
 PHOTOPLAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Adventures of the Scenario. 
 
 THE scenario editor enters his sanctum 
 in the morning pessimistically. He 
 has reason to be sad. 
 On his desk he beholds a hundred manu- 
 scripts, in multi-hued, many-shaped envel- 
 opes of which perhaps one-third were deliv- 
 ered with postage due, because their readers 
 were thrifty. 
 
 With a sigh, and deprived of the solace of 
 the fragrant weed (for smoking is strictly 
 prohibited by fire laws within the precincts 
 of the studio building), he unlimbers his 
 weather-beaten paper knife and begins an- 
 other day of the Quest of the Golden Play! 
 Plays founded, as lengthy missives on per- 
 fumed paper inform him, on the author's 
 romances ; dramas adapted from the tales of 
 ancient Rome, comedies kidnapped from 
 
 11
 
 12 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 ancient jest-books printed before Joe Miller 
 grew old enough to smile; adventures of 
 Nellie the Plumber's Daughter, of Ignatz 
 the Frankfurter King; the merry jests of 
 Hezekiah Frazzleface, — and several hun- 
 dred other heart-achers are all to be read 
 and carefully registered before being laid in 
 the trays for return. 
 
 At frequent intervals the office boy brings 
 in more packets for perusal. 
 
 The scripts are nearly always accompanied 
 by personal notes, which if read would con- 
 sume hours of a busy day. Threats of dam- 
 age suits if any of their ideas should be 
 stolen; complaints from geniuses who have 
 forgotten to put names and addresses upon 
 their writings; manuscripts in pencil, on 
 tissue paper, in red, blue and green ink, with 
 invisible type- writing, — ail these conspire to 
 make life more of a burden for the Editor 
 as the hours go on. 
 
 Directors drift in, with plaintive demands 
 for good live plays to start upon. 
 
 The owner visits, to relieve his mind of 
 sarcastic criticism on the dramatic excel- 
 lences of recent releases — notable for the ab- 
 sence of that quality known as "story." 
 
 The Editor sighs and perhaps reheves his 
 temperament with a gentle oath.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 13 
 
 When all seems lost, he espies in a neat 
 envelope, with stamped and self -addressed 
 envelope for return, a manuscript unchaper- 
 oned by an epistolary autobiography. 
 
 The manuscript is neatly typewritten, on 
 heavy white paper. 
 
 The Editor breathes hard: hope springs 
 eternal, even in a Scenario Editor's breast. 
 
 He studies it carefully. The title page 
 gives the name of the photoplay, with the 
 author's name and address in the upper left 
 hand corner. Turning the page he beholds 
 a well written scenario synopsis of about 
 three hundred words. It is legible: it is 
 interesting; the theme is virile: the action is 
 probable, possible and appealing. 
 
 On the following page he finds a cast of 
 characters giving the age, a brief description 
 of each important person, embodied in a 
 few words, and from this he can estimate 
 part of the cost of the production; for cost 
 is a most important factor. 
 
 Under the cast of characters is a list of all 
 the exteriors and interiors required for com- 
 plete setting of the piece. This determines 
 the remainder of expense. It is in the 
 province of the Scenario Editor, as well as 
 the owner, to look out for the penny and 
 the hundred dollar bill. The director gen-
 
 14 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 erally works at cross purposes, but that has 
 nothing to do with our little tale. 
 
 Following the cast, on the succeeding 
 sheets of manuscript the Editor is overjoyed 
 to behold the complete scenario form worked 
 out for every large and small scene; not 
 wordy literary flights but vital flashes of 
 description of the exact action or "business," 
 as it is termed in the profession. 
 
 Needless to say, a scenario like this is an 
 oasis in the desert of undesirable manu- 
 scripts. The Editor places it aside for pres- 
 entation to the directors, if indeed he does 
 not hunt up one of them immediately with 
 his happy find. Even though the plot and 
 action are not as good as some of those 
 poorly written, the impression is so favor- 
 able that the best points of the manuscript 
 are brought out forcibly. 
 
 The average scenario editor is on the look- 
 out for good material and with his superior 
 skill and experience in the needs of the com- 
 panies he is very apt to aid in one way or 
 another the cause of the writer, by suggested 
 additions or perhaps even a rewriting so as 
 to utilize the good points of the photoplay. 
 
 Granting that the scenario meets the ap- 
 proval of the editor and the director or di- 
 rectors who determine the purchase of a
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 15 
 
 scenario, the manuscript after being care- 
 fully supervised, is handed to the producer 
 for staging. 
 
 The script may not be used for many 
 weeks or it may be put on within a few hours 
 of its acceptance. Indeed, the latter is more 
 apt to be the case because of the dearth of 
 good stories and the steady output of the 
 companies. 
 
 The great bugaboo of the motion picture 
 producers is being behind schedule. Almost 
 invariably they are forced to rush their 
 plays. The sooner a good scenario comes to 
 hand the quicker its completion with satis- 
 faction to the head of the company and the 
 release department. 
 
 There is much preparation necessary after 
 the acceptance of a scenario. 
 
 The director carefully studies the photo- 
 play in its theme, its romance, the photo- 
 graphic possibilities of the story, and makes 
 a general embellishment of the action as 
 described by the author. 
 
 Many directors rewrite each scene for 
 their own use, covering every detail of char- 
 acters, costumes, properties "in hand" and 
 properties "in set" ; a list of indoor settings 
 is given to the stage manager and arrange-
 
 16 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 ments are made for the production of the 
 play. 
 
 Weather conditions count very frequently 
 in the preparation for this work. If the 
 weather is clear and bright, the director gen- 
 erally begins witli the outside work. 
 
 The large studios, in some instances, have 
 ''location men," whose specialty is to seek 
 locations for exterior dramatic work. They 
 even go so far as to collect photographs for 
 their files, showing churches, cottages, rustic 
 bridges, tenements, factories, brooks, cliffs, 
 mountain scenes and the like so that on short 
 notice the director can designate the loca- 
 tions for his work. This is not the usual cus- 
 tom, however. In most instances, the direc- 
 tor uses his own general knowledge of local- 
 ity for hunting the scenes, transporting in 
 automobiles direct from the studio the char- 
 acters needed in particular outdoor scenes 
 with the camera man, and an assistant. The 
 actors are costumed and "made up" in their 
 own dressing rooms in order to be prepared 
 for quick work. 
 
 Within a short radius of New York City, 
 there is a remarkable diversity of scenery 
 and the companies of the metropolis are very 
 fortunate for this reason. Their mountain 
 pictures are usually taken on the heights of
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 17 
 
 the Palisades, on either side of the Hudson 
 River, and for rustic country scenes, they 
 find ample variety within thirty minutes' 
 automobile ride of Broadway, on the Jersey 
 Shore, on Long Island and in Westchester 
 County, while the city proper offers an in- 
 finitude of picturesque backgrounds which 
 will fit places of almost any national local- 
 ity, — Little Italy, the Ghetto, quaint Green- 
 wich village, the wharves, the docks, Italian 
 Gardens, French Boulevards and parks, the 
 squalid factories, — all a few short blocks 
 from the Great White Way, all rendering 
 invaluable aid to the director. 
 
 When the "caravan" of actors, actresses, 
 the camera man and the director arrive at the 
 location selected, it is necessary for the di- 
 rector to secure permission for the taking of 
 pictures. 
 
 This is not always an easy task. Perhaps 
 a janitor, a caretaker or the owner objects to 
 the immortalization of his property. But in 
 most cases judicious application of soothing 
 syrup of argent makes this agreeable. Lo- 
 cations cost from three dollars to fifty or a 
 hundred, depending upon the importance of 
 the scene and the trouble incurred. For fea- 
 ture pictures trains and railroad yards are 
 often hired, where the price runs up in the
 
 18 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 hundreds. Trolley cars, trucks, vans, work- 
 men in trenches, the laborers in gigantic 
 building operations, employees in machine 
 shops, — all these are brought into the set- 
 tings when necessary to realize the "atmos- 
 phere" which will allow the principal actors 
 to fulfill their dramatic roles. 
 
 When the out-door location has been se- 
 cured, the camera is set up on its tripod, and 
 the camera man, under directions from his 
 superior, proceeds to focus on the necessaiy 
 points. Chalk lines are drawn, indicating 
 the field of the lens. This field must be used 
 for the action, and here is one of the greatest 
 problems of motion picture production. 
 
 Here must be noted an unique feature of 
 cinematographic drama. The stage of the 
 theatre is fan-shaped, with the curve of the 
 fan — the apron or front of the stage, under 
 the proscenium arch — as the place for lead- 
 ing action. The entire space across the 
 stage, directly in front of the orchestra, can 
 be used, and thus the actors have great lati- 
 tude. 
 
 It is exactly the reverse with the cinemato- 
 graphic camera. Its field is fan-shaped, but 
 the eye of the camera is at the small end of 
 the fan. The most important business must 
 be performed as closely as possible to this
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 19 
 
 fan-point, in order that the images may ap- 
 pear large and distinctly upon the film. 
 Thus, the audience beholds upon the screen 
 of the theatre the dramatic action, the facial 
 expression and the subtlety of gesture which 
 are so necessary to take the place of dia- 
 logue. 
 
 The development of the "close-up" action, 
 whereby the figures are sometimes so large 
 as to show only heads and torsos is an Ameri- 
 can innovation, although we owe the earlier 
 methods of photoplay pantomime to the 
 French and Italian producers. 
 
 When action is carried on at a distance 
 from the camera it is diminished greatly in 
 dramatic value, for the lens exaggerates per- 
 spective. 
 
 To work in the few feet allotted, — 
 amounting to a stage width of six or eight 
 feet, at a distance of ten feet from the 
 lens, — is a tremendous problem many times. 
 
 The director is compelled to rehearse, 
 again and again, the movements of the ac- 
 tors in order to keep them within the field 
 of vision, and at the same time to utilize 
 each movement without showing unnatural 
 closeness. 
 
 In one production the director was com- 
 pelled to build a small fence around the feet
 
 20 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 of an actor who persistently stepped out of 
 the picture in a crucial dramatic moment. 
 The figure of the man was cut at the knees, 
 and the fence was not evident — yet it saved 
 the day! 
 
 Limited by this necessity, the drawing- of 
 lines and the careful work inside them is of 
 vital import. For exterior work it is espe- 
 cially difficult, while another worrisome fea- 
 ture in street scenes is the prevention of 
 pedestrians and the ubiquitous urchin from 
 dashing through the picture at the psycho- 
 logical moment. 
 
 Few flashes are run for less than five feet. 
 These small views are necessary to make the 
 action continuous throughout the play. 
 
 By this is meant the amount of space in 
 the reel given to the action necessary to 
 make the story consecutive. In other words, 
 a strong dramatic scene filled with important 
 business is apt to run to seventy-five or one 
 hundred feet, practically one-tenth of the 
 length of a reel. "Flashes" of the hero rid- 
 ing desperately on horseback, a telephone 
 message, the entrance or exit through a por- 
 tal, will take only eight or ten feet of film. 
 
 Here is one of the greatest difficulties of a 
 photoplaywright — to avoid breaks in the 
 plot and to condense the movement of the
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 21 
 
 story so skillfully that every step is evident 
 without expending too much space on the 
 connecting links. 
 
 To return to our outdoor rehearsal, when 
 the director feels that the characters can in- 
 terpret every move and expression to his 
 satisfaction, the camera man turns the crank 
 and the scene is filmed. This may have to be 
 repeated three or four times in order to hold 
 it within the desired footage limit or to 
 catch some difficult business correctly. 
 
 The director proceeds with his company 
 to the next location and endeavors to com- 
 plete, as far as possible, all the outdoor pic- 
 tures during good weather, for the sun light 
 or bright cloudy days are essential for ex- 
 terior work. 
 
 In the studio, the pictures are taken in 
 practically the same manner. The stage is 
 set with scrupulous attention to detail, the 
 properties are all arranged and, in cinemato- 
 graphic drama, real food, real wine, real pic- 
 tures on the walls and real ornaments must 
 be obtained instead of imitations which are 
 used on the stage, because the audience of a 
 theatre has not the bitter keenness of per- 
 ception possessed by the motion camera lens. 
 
 All the scenes which are to be put on in 
 one set are produced before it is removed.
 
 22 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 The chalk lines are placed upon the floor 
 of the studio just as was done in the exterior 
 work. 
 
 There are many daylight studios, but it 
 has been found advisable, for avoiding ex- 
 pensive delays, to use powerful batteries of 
 electric lights, suspended over the stage and 
 arranged in rows on either side of the act- 
 ing space. By this means weather condi- 
 tions do not interfere with the program of 
 production. When all the action in one set 
 is completed, it is "struck" by the stage 
 hands and another scene is erected. 
 
 The entire list of sets is gone through with 
 in this manner, not at all in sequence of the 
 script, but according to the discretion of the 
 director. 
 
 When all the scenes have been photo- 
 graphed, the rolls of films are sent to the 
 laboratory, where the negative or master film 
 is developed. 
 
 This is separated and joined in the order 
 indicated by the scenario arrangement and 
 from this is made the first print or positive, 
 by printing the picture upon fresh film, as a 
 photographer prints upon paper from his 
 glass plates. 
 
 Every studio is equipped with a minia- 
 ture theatre, called the projecting room, and
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 23 
 
 thither the director and his assistant hie 
 themselves to see the "first run" of the print. 
 
 This is generally a harrowing experience, 
 because the entire reel seems helter-skelter 
 when two or three views have been taken of 
 the same scene and all run in with the first 
 print. The director chooses the best selec- 
 tions from this, makes notes for needed elim- 
 inations, and it is put in perfected form, in 
 the assembling room, by skillful girl op- 
 eratives. 
 
 It may be necessary in some instances to 
 make "re-takes" of some of the scenes, ow- 
 ing to mistakes or technical needs. If this 
 is the case, the actors are reassembled, the 
 scenes repeated, interior or exterior, and the 
 new film substituted in place of the rejected 
 portion. 
 
 When the print is finally approved, it is 
 again assembled, the waste portions of the 
 film are clipped out and it is run once more 
 in the projecting room, this time nearer the 
 idea of the director. A print is frequently 
 run twenty times, after as many "surgical 
 operations" before finally approved. 
 
 It is certainly a terrific task to reduce a 
 film to the exact number of feet for a reel, 
 but, however heartrending it is for a director 
 to cut into some of his best scenes, it is nee-
 
 24 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 essary to do this, because the commercial 
 demands make the unit one, two or three 
 thousand feet, as the case may be. 
 
 After a director has seen the play shown 
 on the screen, he then prepares his title list. 
 The main title of the picture, with the name 
 of the company making it, is generally given 
 ten feet, and the remaining sub-titles or 
 "leaders," indicating action, reproductions 
 of letters, telegrams, photographs, etc., are 
 treated very carefully to fit the needs of the 
 picture as finally produced. 
 
 For this reason, no matter how carefully 
 an author words his titles in his script, they 
 seldom answer the purpose needed because 
 inevitable alterations in the course of produc- 
 tion make it necessary for the director to 
 prune and slice his titles to fit his own needs. 
 
 Pictures which require many titles are 
 weak, because the story that depends upon 
 explanatory printing is difficult to follow, 
 and it should be vital and unified in its action 
 through the tableaux vivantes. 
 
 In titles, the amount of space given is gen- 
 erally a foot to a word. Hence, two hundred 
 words of titles — it is easy to figure out how 
 little that is in the course of a thirty or forty 
 scene picture — takes up two hundred feet of
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 25 
 
 film, or deprives the play of one-fifth of its 
 entire action. 
 
 Upon the completion of the first print to 
 the director's satisfaction, it is sent to the 
 assembly room again. Here the girls match 
 the positive as corrected with the exact pieces 
 of negatives from which it was made, care- 
 fully joining strip after strip to follow the 
 exact sequence of the film pictures. 
 
 This negative is sent to the factory and 
 from it are made the regular prints, which 
 are wound on the reels and distributed to the 
 public for exhibition. 
 
 This distribution in the system of regular 
 releases, used in America, is done through 
 syndicates of manufacturers. From the 
 central office of these syndicates the pictures 
 are sent out to the various exchanges 
 throughout the country and upon regular 
 orders. The exchanges rent the films to the 
 exhibitors or picture theatre proprietors in a 
 special territory which is allotted to them. 
 
 IVIost of the photoplays are shown one day 
 only in each theatre. The newer the pictures 
 are, the higher price for the rental. Pic- 
 tures known as "first releases" are those 
 shown on the day picked out by the com- 
 panies for the first public exhibition of the 
 photoplay. It is the same throughout the
 
 26 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 country. After being shown in one house, 
 the picture is either collected by the agent 
 of the exchange to be sent direct to another 
 theatre or forwarded by one exhibitor to the 
 next neighbor on the circuit. In this way it 
 goes through the chain of theatres using mu- 
 tual exchange service, taking the place of the 
 old one-night-stand theatrical companies. 
 
 The life of a film is generally a year and a 
 half or two years, although it becomes the 
 so-called "commercial film" after the first 
 year. It is used to fill in programmes and 
 retained on the shelves of the exchange for 
 emergency. 
 
 Ninety days after the date of release, it is 
 customary among most of the American 
 companies to ship the negatives to London, 
 where duplicates are made and copies are 
 sold in the open market to the buyers from 
 every country in the world, who flock to the 
 English capital to make their purchases. 
 The titles are translated and printed into the 
 languages of the various countries in which 
 the pictures are to be exhibited. Thus the 
 American writer sends his thoughts and 
 dramatic creations throughout the entire 
 world. 
 
 It has been worked out by statisticians that 
 a photoplay, with a reasonably good sale of
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 27 
 
 thirty reels, is seen in the course of a year by 
 more than sixteen million people. Hence the 
 photoplaywright has a greater audience with 
 one picture than Shakespeare had in two cen- 
 turies. 
 
 The photoplays are advertised in the 
 magazines of the moving picture trade, the 
 synopses are printed in the reading columns, 
 as well as being featured in display adver- 
 tisements in the periodicals. 
 
 Although each of the four large syndi- 
 cates is composed of many component com- 
 panies, their work runs smoothly and the 
 syndicates, for the most part, advertise col- 
 lectively the brand which they distribute. 
 
 Besides the syndicates, however, there are 
 at present a number of feature companies 
 working exclusively on the production of 
 large spectacular plays of three and four 
 reel length. These productions are gen- 
 erally accepted for longer periods than 
 single reels and are run in the large thea- 
 tres for periods lasting from a week to six 
 months. 
 
 The scenario work of these productions is 
 almost invariably perfected by specialists 
 engaged by the companies. It is a waste of 
 time for the average playwright to prepare 
 great historical plays, pageants and expen-
 
 28 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 sive multiple-reel productions. He is much 
 better rewarded by devoting his energies at 
 the beginning of his career by the production 
 of modern American plays with simple casts, 
 powerful action and themes of every-day 
 life. 
 
 These are readily accepted and devoutly 
 prayed for by the editors and directors. 
 When a writer has created fifteen or twenty 
 successful photoplays, the eyes of producers 
 will be upon him and he is then in line for 
 promotion to special work on the larger sub- 
 jects. 
 
 One of the best ways for a writer to keep 
 in touch with the possibilities of the market 
 is to follow very closely the press announce- 
 ments and the advertisements of the leading 
 periodicals devoted to this subject. Maga- 
 zines devoted to the art of the writing of 
 scenarios are good for suggestions and tips 
 to new openings. 
 
 Among these are the "Writer's Maga- 
 zine," the "Photoplaywright" and the 
 "Editor," which are all conscientiously 
 and skillfully devoted to the interests of 
 writers. 
 
 The strictly trade magazines afford 
 definite knowledge, week by week, of the 
 needs and plans of the companies. They
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 29 
 
 are published for producers and exhibitors, 
 but are invaluable to the writer who 
 analyzes situations and keeps abreast of the 
 times by making the same careful study of 
 operations that a good salesman does in any 
 particular commercial field. 
 
 Indeed, real art is never complete unless 
 it is commercially successful: Shakespeare, 
 Stevenson, Balzac, Dickens, Thackeray, and 
 practically all of the great writers and 
 dramatists, crystallized the best in their own 
 times by writing that which would sell, and 
 in this way attained success. 
 
 Art which is not valuable to the public 
 for which it is produced is seldom permanent. 
 So, the photoplays which are not written to 
 answer definite needs along the lines of con- 
 ventional requirements, represent wasted 
 energy and accomplish nothing for the im- 
 provement of the cinematographic work nor 
 benefit to the author. 
 
 When the photoplaywright establishes a 
 system of shrewd, systematic and persever- 
 ing salesmanship, applying to his produc- 
 tions the best technique, the highest artistry 
 of which he is capable, his success is eventu- 
 ally assured. 
 
 The "Moving Picture World," the "New 
 York Sunday Telegraph," "The Billboard,"
 
 so THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 "Motography," the "New York Dramatic 
 Mirror," the "Exhibitors' Times-News"— 
 all these publications are strictly profes- 
 sional. Too much attention cannot be paid 
 to their columns and display sections. 
 
 In particular, the "Moving Picture 
 World" contains many interesting articles 
 by well-known critics on photoplay tech- 
 nique, as well as showing brief synopses of 
 the weekly releases of all the important com- 
 panies in the field. 
 
 No wise writer will waste time with the 
 get-rich-quick correspondence schools on 
 photoplay technique. The scenarios of their 
 patrons are subjected to form-letter meth- 
 ods. The recent jailing of the promoter of 
 one of these concerns for fraudulent use of 
 the mails, by which he is estimated to have 
 cleared thirty thousand dollars in two years 
 from his victims, should be ample warn- 
 ing. 
 
 A book which will give a broad technical 
 knowledge of dramatic construction can be 
 recommended to writers who are earnestly 
 working for the highest rewards in this field. 
 This volume is "The Analysis of Play Con- 
 struction and Dramatic Principle," by W. 
 T. Price, which is a profound and sincere 
 exposition by a philosopher of the art who
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 31 
 
 has read and accepted for various managers 
 more plays in the last twenty-five years than 
 any one else in America. 
 
 The advertisements of the quack corre- 
 spondence schools announce that "no literary 
 training nor skill in writing is necessary for 
 success in photoplay work." They declare 
 that "the idea is all that is necessary." This 
 is false. There are millions of ideas: every 
 scenario editor, director and actor is pre- 
 sented with scores of clever suggestions 
 from his friends. The magazines and news- 
 papers teem daily with incidents which would 
 be the basis for good scenarios, but it is the 
 careful dramatic development, professional 
 presentation of theme and movement, which 
 makes a scenario worth while. The "real" 
 money to be made in this kind of work is 
 by scripts of professional excellence, for the 
 day is past when companies pay five, ten and 
 twenty-five dollars for fragmentary ideas, 
 or simple narrations of incidents. 
 
 "Fine writing," i. e., oratorical and poetic 
 profuseness of language, are not required. 
 In fact, they militate against a scenario by 
 creating a bored attitude with the reader. 
 But good, concise English, with description 
 of action which conveys the exact require- 
 ments, are necessary for successful work.
 
 32 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Verbosity is to be avoided. But it is most 
 advisable to have the synopsis, the descriptive 
 passages, and the business expressed in com- 
 plete, parsable sentences which indicate clear 
 and constructive thought beliind them.
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Theme of the Photoplay. 
 
 THE theme is the backbone which gives 
 strength, action and effectiveness to 
 the photoplay, just as with a drama 
 for the stage or a novel. 
 
 Despite the importance of cleverness in 
 presentation of the ideas, the ideas them- 
 selves are what really lend vitality and worth 
 to a story. Because of this importance the 
 motion picture companies are compelled to 
 utilize the works of varied writers, with dif- 
 ferentiated aspects on life, and manifold 
 dissimilarities of personality. 
 
 This need of strong themes is the great 
 boon for the ambitious writer who is not 
 directly connected with the producing com- 
 panies, but writes from a different environ- 
 ment. 
 
 His thoughts are apt to be fresher, and 
 while perhaps lacking the technical skill of 
 the scenario staff writer, he views life from 
 a less professional vantage point. He is 
 
 33
 
 84 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 closer to the people, and is the center of his 
 own individual web of observation lines; he 
 beholds romances and episodes absolutely 
 unknown to others in his same line of work. 
 And when he applies these personal experi- 
 ences and observations to dramatic depiction, 
 whether in the form of photoplays or four 
 act dramas for the stage, he is armed with 
 power and splendid ammunition. 
 
 To apply these vigorous and unliackneyed 
 thoughts so as to produce artistic results 
 along the lines laid down by centuries of 
 necessary conventions, is the simple and com- 
 plex art of dramatic technique. 
 
 Nothing in art, as well as in business, can 
 succeed without a deep and definite purpose. 
 
 That purpose must, to endure perman- 
 ently, be good, make the world better for its 
 existence, and arrive at a definite moral con- 
 clusion. Yet the morality or the purpose 
 or theme of a photoplay must be adroitly 
 exploited; for nothing is so vapid and tire- 
 some as the type of play which is a dramati- 
 zation of be-good-and-you-will-be-happy. 
 The French novelists and dramatists lean to 
 this sort of thing — at the end of the fifth act, 
 but during the preceding numbers they have 
 so stirred up the Decalogue and the Serpent 
 that the audience accepts the virtuous finale
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 35 
 
 as a sort of soothing syrup, to calm their 
 over-stimulated temperaments. 
 
 The photoplaywright should make it a 
 point to keep in touch with the different 
 moving picture periodicals. Not those which 
 publish Actionized narratives of the plays, 
 but the trade magazines which are published 
 for the benefit of the manufacturers and ex- 
 hibitors. 
 
 Through the columns of these magazines 
 and careful reading of the advertisements 
 of the productions of the different companies 
 for a period of several weeks, the writer can 
 keep the general field well in mind and mas- 
 ter the understanding of the demands of 
 the public more directly than through any 
 of the so-called schools or even through the 
 direct instruction of any one person. 
 
 Lengthy letters to the editor are a bore 
 and actually prejudice him against the 
 manuscript. The proof of the scenario is the 
 scenario itself and it is even a waste of time 
 to include any letter, for the carefully writ- 
 ten manuscript giving the title, name and 
 address of the writer and enclosing a 
 stamped envelope and self-addressed envel- 
 ope explains itself. 
 
 Above all things avoid coincidences. Coin- 
 cidence is the make-shift of a writer who
 
 36 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 cannot make the characters of his plot work 
 out the story. 
 
 Avoid all actions or characterizations 
 which are not definitely needed in the remov- 
 ing of obstacles to the completion of the 
 story or else which are not absolutely neces- 
 sary to show the character and purpose of 
 the important characters. 
 
 Put one plot at a time; the single reel 
 picture, lasts only eighteen minutes and only 
 one line of action can be worked out well 
 in this time. This is another important de- 
 tail in which the photoplay differs from the 
 drama. 
 
 The title is very important. It is safe to 
 say that two-thirds of the scenarios have 
 been bought because of a clever and salient 
 title. 
 
 The best title is one which Is so expressive 
 of the theme that it almost gives the entire 
 story in a word or two or three. 
 
 Yet, the title should not tell the denoue- 
 ment of the story, but leave that as the bait 
 which attracts the spectator to the theatre. 
 It is bad to send a scenario without a 
 thoughtfully devised title, because the editor 
 naturally concludes that the author who can- 
 not plan a good title cannot have a complete 
 grasp of his theme.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 37 
 
 The editor or the director frequently 
 changes the title and the subtitles to fit cer- 
 tain demands of the play as produced, but 
 they should be carefully elaborated in ad- 
 vance. 
 
 Real dramatic construction is the art of 
 selecting the vital incidents of a story, chop- 
 ping away the unnecessary parts, condens- 
 ing and making more tense the essentials 
 and arranging them so that they will have 
 coherence, swift and certain movement, a 
 stirring climax whether of comedy, romance 
 or tragedy with a justified and satisfactory 
 finale. 
 
 For the collection of new material the 
 author has a world of resources. 
 
 Every newspaper contains some new com- 
 plication of human drama or comedy in its 
 hundreds of items. 
 
 Themes can be developed from the most 
 suggestive and appealing of these. They 
 must be transformed from the mere story 
 into a dramatic structure; with a definite 
 line or thread of story, and the imagination 
 of the writer must devise new situations, 
 additional characters and consecutive inci- 
 dents, which all unite to reach a definite and 
 unavoidable denouement. 
 
 The theme itself can be expressed in one
 
 38 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 sentence, no matter how involved or dra- 
 matic the plot. 
 
 Thus, the theme of "Love Incog," the 
 sample comedy shown in this book, is: "A 
 temporarily bankrupt young man masquer- 
 ades as a girl, while his sweetheart dresses 
 as a man, to go to a dance, whence they 
 elope and are married in the wrong clothes, 
 to outwit the sheriff and a fortune-hunting 
 count." 
 
 The theme of "The Chap from Broad- 
 way" is : "A New Yorker goes to the moun- 
 tain country to buy timber, where he wins 
 a landowner's daughter by outwitting her 
 old sweetheart, the leader of a moonshine 
 gang." 
 
 When a theme can not be expressed in 
 this manner it is hopelessly lacking in direct- 
 ness and will not succeed. 
 
 Every scenario should first be expressed 
 in this way, with the later divertisements in- 
 troduced to carry it along, by an audience's 
 interest, maintaining that interest with sus- 
 pense and sympathy, and making it "real 
 life" by character depiction and action 
 which "rings true," until the end of the 
 play satisfies the demands of poetic and 
 dramatic justice— and the audience. 
 
 Much sarcasm has been vented by certain
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 39 
 
 critics upon novelists and dramatists who 
 end their stories "nicely." But, the answer 
 is simple: there is so much unpunished 
 wickedness and undeserved misery about us 
 every day, that it is stimulating and bene- 
 ficial to see virtue rewarded, if only in the 
 make-believe ! 
 
 One thing certain is that audiences do not 
 relish the bitter ending as they do the sweet ; 
 there are, of course, themes in which death 
 is the only logical termination of a char- 
 acter's career. But, in each instance, the 
 purpose of such treatment should be defi- 
 nitely to show justice and to teach goodness 
 and happiness. 
 
 The writer of this book believes that the 
 title of a photoplay, with the connotation 
 of ideas which it brings up, is the first and 
 most important step in its preparation. 
 
 With a distinctive and original title, it is 
 almost certain that the chain of thought will 
 proceed with clearness, force and artistic 
 finish, provided that the basic rules of sce- 
 nario construction are followed. 
 
 A very good way to tabulate new material 
 is to keep a note book, in which are to be 
 written hundreds of interesting titles and 
 suggestive themes. 
 
 They may not all be used for months, but
 
 40 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 the inspiration which is necessary for con- 
 summation is stimulated by continual study 
 of these titles, themes and even characters 
 which may be jotted down. 
 
 The ideal photoplay title is that which re- 
 sembles a book name — short, hinting at 
 much and yet concealing more, strong in 
 phrase and appealing to sentiment. 
 
 Old plays, novels and even short stories 
 are rich treasure houses for photoplay sug- 
 gestion ; there is no absolutely original com- 
 bination of dramatic elements proper. 
 
 There are said to be twelve original 
 stories. But just as there are only twelve 
 different notes of music, and twenty-six let- 
 ters, the same multiplicity of application 
 used by composers and lexicographers can 
 be utilized in different combinations of 
 ancient themes, combined with every-daj^ in- 
 cidents and characters familiar to the writer. 
 
 The great branches of subject matter 
 which can be worked upon are all based upon 
 Love : ( 1 ) love of another — either filial, par- 
 ental, friendly, fraternal or sexual; (2) love 
 of country; (3) love of wealth; (4) love of 
 power; (5) love of learning and of religion. 
 
 What an infinite opportunity for varia- 
 tion! 
 
 When characters appear in the beginning
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 41 
 
 of a play they should be brought back again, 
 in logical manner, to participate in the clos- 
 ing action, as much as possible. This 
 strengthens their value, and at the same time 
 clears up all queries in the minds of the 
 spectators. 
 
 The closer the action is twined about a 
 few characters, the less difficult it is to do 
 this. 
 
 The fewer characters to be woven into the 
 action, the more dramatic work for each 
 character. 
 
 The ideal photoplay would be one with 
 three characters alone: for here the work of 
 the actors would shine at its best and hold 
 the undivided attention of the observers. 
 
 At the same time more attention could be 
 given by the director to the production; more 
 time taken, because less wasted on supernu- 
 meraries, and more money to spend on set- 
 tings and costumes and additional film, be- 
 cause of the reduced cost of salaries. 
 
 But three-character plays are the most 
 difficult to make successful. 
 
 Audiences like to see beautiful landscapes 
 and interiors, while a well-chosen variety of 
 pleasing or picturesque characters makes up 
 for lesser deficiencies in plot. 
 
 Where historical subjects are treated, the
 
 42 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 writer should adhere as closely as possible to 
 the actual facts of history, interpolating 
 whatever romance or tragedy is original in 
 such a way as not to conflict with the records. 
 
 Involved costume plays, demanding a 
 large number of characters and scenes, are 
 a waste of effort, except upon special order 
 from a producing company. 
 
 Plays in which houses must be burned or 
 blown up, trains wrecked, fire engines used, 
 storms depicted, and other truly dramatic 
 but very difficult accessories used, should be 
 avoided by the writer. They are by the 
 companies, except on special features. It 
 should be remembered that not more than 
 twenty people in toto are used for the ma- 
 jority of reels. 
 
 The dramatization of popular novels and 
 successful plays can be done only with spe- 
 cial permission from the authors or owners 
 of the copyrights. The companies generally 
 make these arrangements themselves and 
 employ special writers to make the scenarios. 
 
 The question of Censorship is an im- 
 portant one to the author as well as to the 
 companies: for photoplays which will not 
 pass the gauntlet of the protective commit- 
 tees in various cities are tabooed by produc-
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 43 
 
 ers, because they mean a waste of film and 
 effort. 
 
 The subjects under the embargo can be 
 briefly epitomized. They are well dispensed 
 with for photoplays, considering the influ- 
 ence which the picture themes have upon 
 millions of young people and susceptible 
 elders. 
 
 Education is a movement — it can either 
 go forward or backward, and there is no 
 standing still. 
 
 Picture plays which do not educate for 
 the good, have an evil tendency. 
 
 Wanton slaughter and revolting cruelty 
 should not be shown. 
 
 Murder by bullet, bludgeon or knife 
 should not be put upon the screen — it may 
 be hinted at, if necessary for the strength 
 of the story, but should not be committed 
 in view of the spectators. 
 
 Poison and its use should be kept out of 
 any play : it is too apt to suggest deviltry to 
 weak minds or vicious. Indeed, all methods 
 of burglary, robbery by tricks, forging, 
 counterfeiting, should be tabooed, for this is 
 criminal education when shown in detail. 
 
 Suicide should never be presented in a 
 scenario, as showing the actual deed — for 
 the same reason, evil suggestion.
 
 44 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Immoral flippancy, suggestive scenes and 
 repulsive and degenerate characters should 
 be eliminated. The sex line is a dangerous 
 one to approach in photoplays. Subjects 
 which would be artistic and moral in stage 
 drama and novel form, accompanied by 
 sjilendid lines and presented in problem play 
 form, can not be given their reformative 
 value in wordless plays. They should be 
 avoided sedulously. 
 
 Romance, history, and nearly every dra- 
 matic theme is based upon sex in one M^ay or 
 another, but the wise photoplaywright re- 
 frains from encroaching upon any intimate 
 topics which would cause affront to the thou- 
 sands of worthy and even prudish people 
 throughout the country whose money pays 
 for the picture plays. 
 
 Religious subjects which emphasize the 
 advantages of one religion over another are 
 "impossible"; subjects from Bible stories 
 must be handled most delicately as well, be- 
 cause of the prejudices of many conflicting 
 creeds.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dramatic Principle. 
 
 THE keynote of all dramatic construc- 
 tion (a truth which cannot be too 
 strongly emphasized) is STRUG- 
 GLE. Remember this whether you are writ- 
 ing comedy, drama, tragedy or romance. 
 In comedy the person struggles against a 
 ludicrous or embarrassing situation in an 
 endeavor to win happiness in the end. Com- 
 edy is a struggle with amusing circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The same impulse prevails in drama where 
 the hero or heroine struggles against wick- 
 edness, jealousy or something like that. 
 
 Besides this, there is the dramatic "triad" 
 necessary for every play. There .must be 
 three elements. There must be two women 
 and a man, two men and a woman, or a man, 
 a woman and some emotion or feeling which 
 influences their complete happiness. 
 
 The first essential of a dramatic presenta- 
 tion is to show who the leading characters 
 are to let the audience know what the "strug- 
 
 45
 
 46 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 gle" is and to indicate the direction which 
 that action will take. 
 
 The first scene of a scenario should strike 
 this keynote. The following scenes should 
 be logical developments of the primary ac- 
 tion in a direct and unfaltering progress. 
 
 The leading character or characters should 
 be shown in practically every scene of the 
 play except where it is necessary to explain 
 by digression, the development of some ac- 
 tion in which they will be later implicated. 
 
 For example: the hero or heroine should 
 be shown at the beginning of a drama or 
 comedy. Then it is perhaps advisable to 
 jump to the scene of some conspiracy or 
 preparation of some future action which in 
 the next scene will be brought into relation 
 with the leading characters. 
 
 Breaks in the action are as bad on the 
 screen as a stage-wait on the stage. If pos- 
 sible, it is best to show perfect sequence 
 without the aid of geographical jumps or 
 drops in time, such as "Three Weeks Later," 
 "Five Years Afterwards" and such subter- 
 fuges. 
 
 According to the classic drama, the prin- 
 cipal characters are the hero or male lead, 
 the heroine or female lead, the juvenile or 
 young man who is generally the friend of
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 47 
 
 the hero or the comedian, the ingenue or 
 young woman who plays lighter parts than 
 the heroine, the male heavy known in melo- 
 drama as the villain, the female heavy char- 
 acterized as the adventiu*ess, the low male 
 and low female heavies generally of the low- 
 er social scale who do the "dirty work," the 
 first old man who may be the father of one 
 of the characters, the second old man who 
 plays lighter roles, the first old woman who 
 may be the mother of one of the characters 
 of vital importance, and the second old 
 woman, who may possibly be the nurse or 
 kindly neighbor. 
 
 It is easy to analyze any drama, comedy 
 or photoplay production to observe how 
 definitely this arrangement of characters is 
 followed in all dramatic construction. 
 
 Another requisite of the classic drama is 
 the so-called "Greek unity of time, place and 
 action." By adherence to this, the develop- 
 ment of a draniatic incident follows fluently, 
 within close range of action and with irre- 
 sistible power upon the imagination of the 
 audience. 
 
 When the action is divided into periods 
 of time, six months, ten years or a century 
 apart, there is an unavoidable break in the 
 sequence of the observer's thought. The
 
 48 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 power of well-portrayed characters is nat- 
 urally weakened because of the changes of 
 time upon the characters themselves which 
 make it necessary for a re-establishment of 
 identities. The ideal period of time for dra- 
 matic action should be that actually required 
 for the presentation of the business. 
 
 Stage time is generally twice as rapid as 
 that of actual life. In other words, the de- 
 velopment of action is so intense that what 
 would take half an hour in action in real 
 life, can be expressed in fifteen minutes in 
 the drama without the audience realizing 
 its condensation. The absence of dialogue 
 in the silent drama aids this rapidity of pres- 
 entation. 
 
 The unity of place is desirable because re- 
 peated changes of costume, additional ex- 
 traneous characters and the time jumps 
 required to get from one end of the country 
 to another in the space of a few seconds do 
 not bother the producer nor interfere with 
 the artistic effect of the photoplay. 
 
 Unity of place is also of economical im- 
 portance for the production and will permit 
 the use of the same settings for many scenes. 
 In this way the producer feels justified in 
 spending more money upon the settings 
 themselves. He is more or less limited by
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 49 
 
 the owner of the motion picture company 
 as to the outlay for each picture — and the 
 result is more elaborate and artistic stage 
 effects. 
 
 Unity of action, which means continued, 
 direct and unceasingly forceful business in 
 every scene is the prime essential of every 
 photoplay. 
 
 No character should be introduced who 
 does not add his definite share towards the 
 denouement of the play. It is not necessary 
 to introduce action simply in order to show 
 the nature of a character: if the theme is 
 strong and the purpose clear, each character 
 will show this nature anyway. 
 
 It is the business of the director to indi- 
 cate by the make-up, the costume and the 
 subtleties of pantomime, the nature of the 
 characters. 
 
 The "rising action" follows the introduc- 
 tion, showing the development of the situa- 
 tion. Then the series of powerful incidents 
 finally culminate in what is called the climax. 
 
 On the stage this is generally at the end 
 of the next to the last act. It is the big 
 thing of the play. All the influences of the 
 leads and the heavies culminate in this 
 climax. It is the final great struggle before 
 the "falling action" which shows the result
 
 50 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 of the activities of the characters, in the de- 
 nouement, which is the last step in your ac- 
 tion. 
 
 In this latter all the ravelled skeins of 
 dramatic activity (and there should not be 
 too many in an eighteen minute perform- 
 ance), are pulled together and woven so as 
 to make a complete fabric of the play. 
 
 It should be remembered that "want," 
 whether it be wanting the love of a woman, 
 of a man, of power, of money or of food, is 
 the steam of the dramatic engine. The fight 
 to satisfy this "want" is the movement of the 
 engine through the play. The denouement 
 is the satisfaction or deprivation of this de- 
 sire which must be in the nature of dramatic 
 and artistic justice. 
 
 The play must essentially be moral in its 
 theme. 
 
 If the "want" is immoral — the greed for 
 gold or the satisfaction of an unworthy love 
 or some other wicked design, — the ending 
 of the play must be the logical punishment 
 for those efforts and the victorj^ of good over 
 evil. 
 
 If the want is noble, it should be a happy 
 reward, but in all cases, the attainment of 
 good desires or the penalty of bad ones must 
 be brought about through the efforts of the
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 51 
 
 characters themselves and not through any 
 chance happenings or obvious luck, written 
 to order for the play by the author. 
 
 The first scene being the key-note of the 
 photoplay, it should begin with "ginger" and 
 should be in the midst of activity, introduc- 
 ing as many of the leading characters as 
 possible. 
 
 To have the characters enter into a room 
 or an exterior is a waste of film. Unless for 
 some valid reason it is desirable to show this 
 action, this extra time should be omitted. 
 
 As often as possible, the characters should 
 be "discovered" in the scene when it begins 
 for in many cases the entrance "eats up" 
 many valuable feet of film. In some cases, 
 it may require thirty or forty feet of film 
 to "enter" the photographic field; this is 
 generally a waste of space which is needed 
 for more important action in other parts of 
 the film. 
 
 The director chooses locations, but sug- 
 gested settings, in detail, frequently lend 
 valuable aid to the artistic effect. 
 
 It is a good thing, in fact, to describe the 
 exact types of characters and special "prop- 
 erties" which the author pictures in his mind, 
 but the play should not depend upon any 
 particular setting or particular character for
 
 52 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 production. Neither should the play be 
 written for certain actors and actresses ( fav- 
 orites of the writer) because it may fall short 
 of a company's requirements or the possibili- 
 ties in their casts. Thus would the idea be 
 handicapped for other sales. 
 
 The complexities of the action should be 
 caused by the natural unwinding of the plot, 
 by the workings of the characters in the 
 play and follow along lines which they 
 would be expected to pursue. If the char- 
 acter is a truck-driver, he cannot be expected 
 to act like a bank president. If another 
 is a country girl or a peasant, it is unreason- 
 able to suppose that she will work out her 
 problems with all the adroitness and subtle 
 skill of a woman of the world. 
 
 Above all the reward, or conquest of evil 
 which brings that reward, must be so evident 
 that nothing is left to the imagination of the 
 spectator, nor must it go by chance. It 
 should be shown definitely that the hero or 
 heroine have worked, fought, and suffered in 
 order to attain success. Anything short of 
 this is poor dramatic construction. 
 
 These precepts are simple and yet they ap- 
 ply to the best drama and literature of all 
 peoples. They were as true in the time of 
 Shakespeare as they are now. For this rea-
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 53 
 
 son they can be applied with more striking 
 effect to the environment with which a writer 
 is famihar and which will strike home the 
 closest to the people who will see the play. 
 
 Modern themes, modern characters, mod- 
 ern problems of every daj^ life with the mul- 
 tiplicity of environment of the present times, 
 gives to the imaginative writer a field of in- 
 spiration and activity which can never be 
 drained dry of dramatic material. 
 
 Sentiment is the oil which greases the ma- 
 chinery which makes the world go round. 
 Human interest, in other words, heart in- 
 terest, is necessary for the complete dramatic 
 production, no matter what is the nature or 
 setting. The appeal should always be made 
 to the sympathies of the audience in order 
 that the efforts of the hero or heroine are 
 justifiable. Sympathy is absolutely neces- 
 sary to make the leading character vital and 
 to hold the interest and suspense of the audi- 
 ence throughout the play. 
 
 It is not necessary to make a man a "prig" 
 nor a girl a "prude." Make them worth 
 while. The leads should be appealingly hu- 
 man. It is not necessary to tag the moral 
 on to the plaj'-. It should be self-evident 
 through the series of incidents which prove 
 the qualities of the characters involved.
 
 54 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 With comedy as in drama the action is 
 that of struggle and that comedy is most 
 successful which is imbued with the spirit 
 of satire, of some foible, vanity or moral or 
 mental attitude which deserves reproof. 
 
 The reader upon reflection will observe 
 that the just ridicule of unreasoning ego- 
 tism, braggadocio, selfishness, avarice, 
 cruelty, extravagance or cowardice are the 
 themes upon which the importance of com- 
 edies or dramas are based. 
 
 Farce is comedy which is amusing from 
 its quaint and intricate development of tan- 
 gled situations rather than character draw- 
 ing which is the basis of comedy. 
 
 The demands in motion picture companies 
 to-day are for quaint, jolly comedies in 
 which can be shown the faces of pretty girls, 
 charming costumes and attractive landscape 
 settings as well as artistic interiors. 
 
 The love element should prevail but it is 
 unnecessary, even inadvisable to have espe- 
 cially disagreeable characters in these plays 
 of lighter vein. It has been said that "All 
 the world loves a lover except good luck 
 and his future mother-in-law," There are 
 many other obstacles besides these which may 
 interfere with the course of romance and 
 the achievement of sentimental aspirations.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 55 
 
 By skilled depiction of discouragements, 
 and interferences of a thousand kinds, pre- 
 sented in a continued series of struggles 
 against them, a clever writer can produce 
 first-rate comedies with a spark of original- 
 ity and uniqueness which should keep the 
 wolf from the dumbwaiter for several years 
 to come. The basis of comedy is "making 
 fun" of some character — and letting that 
 fun act as the central purpose of the play. 
 
 The themes to be avoided are those of 
 sensuality, degraded phases of life, moral 
 degradation and topics which are apt to of- 
 fend people of certain races, religious or 
 political differences. 
 
 Try this acid test on every scenario: 
 
 (1). Is it plausible? 
 
 (2). Is it probable? 
 
 (3). Will it pass the Board of Censor- 
 ship? 
 
 (4). Is it possible to produce it at rea- 
 sonable expense, regarding scenery and 
 characters? 
 
 (5). Is it a simple theme, arising from 
 a natural beginning to a natural dramatic 
 ending without too many furbelows? 
 
 (6). Does it possess individuality, dif- 
 fering absolutely in some important respect 
 from anything you ever read, saw or heard?
 
 56 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 After the writer has succeeded with a 
 number of single reel scenarios it is time 
 (and then only) to direct his energies to the 
 multiple reel subjects. Two reel comedies 
 and dramas are profitable productions for 
 the motion picture companies because the 
 additional expense seldom amounts to more 
 than fifty per cent, of the cost of a single 
 reel, with double returns from the sales. Yet 
 the two reel subject should be doubly power- 
 ful in dramatic value to justify the pur- 
 chase of the script, at an additional cost. 
 
 The vogue for half -reel subjects, by which 
 two playlets or one play and one educational 
 subject are shown on the same reel, is past. 
 It requires no more work for the writer, or 
 in truth the producer, to produce a full reel 
 of good selling power. 
 
 The technical presentation of a two or 
 three reel subject is virtually the same as 
 that of a single reel, except that there should 
 be a proportionate addition to the number of 
 scenes, and dramatic crises. 
 
 As to prices paid for scripts, this varies 
 as it does in the magazines and book publish- 
 ing field, with the, value of the work and the 
 fame of a writer. 
 
 Fifteen dollars should be the lowest price 
 accepted by even a beginner for a script : if
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 57 
 
 it is not worth that to a company, it is en- 
 tirely valueless. 
 
 Twenty-five dollars is a fair price, how- 
 ever, for an unknown writer, and is generally 
 the lowest offer made. The companies pay 
 on acceptance, sending a release voucher for 
 the author to sign, either with the check, or 
 directly on acceptance, with the check to fol- 
 low the return of the voucher, in which the 
 author certifies that the story is original. 
 
 Scenarios can not be satisfactorily copy- 
 righted, despite the claims of certain adver- 
 tising lawyers, for the scenario is merely the 
 description of a series of actions. Words, 
 phrases, pictures (as records of action) may 
 be copyrighted by application to the Regis- 
 ter of Copyrights, Library of Congress, 
 Washington, D. C. But a dishonest sce- 
 nario editor can take the theme of a picture 
 play, alter it slightly and claim it as his own. 
 This is the "profit and loss" column of the 
 writer — it is the gambling chance which he 
 is forced to take in sending his manuscripts 
 for consideration. 
 
 But in nearly all the companies scrupulous 
 honesty is observed. It is the best business 
 policy, for it is better to pay for the work 
 of a clever writer, to encourage him to offer 
 more material, than to pirate his work, and
 
 58 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 make an enemy of him when the theft is 
 discovered. For the protection of his own 
 interests a writer should accordingly follow 
 the synopses publications, in the columns 
 of the trade magazines, to see that 
 he has not been tricked. He should 
 remember, however, that themes iden- 
 tical with his own can innocently enough 
 be presented by other writers, and accepted 
 in good faith. It is only when the synopsis 
 or some peculiarly clever titles or both are 
 purveyed that he can claim plagiarism. 
 
 The simplest method of protection against 
 plagiarism of this sort is to keep carbon 
 copies of every scenario written, with the 
 date of offering to various companies, care- 
 fully filed. When an apparent theft of his 
 work is observed in some advertised play, 
 he is entitled to demand the source of author- 
 ship from the company producing it. If he 
 is dissatisfied with the reply it is then time 
 to take legal action. If plagiarism can be 
 proved, by testimony which establishes his 
 own authorship and similarities which are 
 more than coincidences, it is not a hard task 
 to secure damages or a settlement out of 
 court which will repay many times the orig- 
 inal price of his scenario. 
 
 Accusations of literary theft should be
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 59 
 
 charily made, however, and only after a 
 writer has made certain of his case. The 
 burden of proof is upon him, and it is not 
 so easy to prove sole ownership of a dra- 
 matic composition. 
 
 AVriters who are experienced and success- 
 ful in scenario production are paid much 
 better prices than the amateurs ; seventy-five 
 and one hundred dollars are not too much 
 for a scenario which will net to the company 
 a profit of thousands of dollars. 
 
 The future of scenario writing is brighter 
 than the past. The old themes have been 
 worn threadbare: the mechanics of direction 
 have become so much more strenuous that 
 the producer has no time to write his own 
 plays, and here is the golden opportunity 
 for an author who devotes time and scien- 
 tific methods to the development of his art. 
 
 The commercial field of motion picture 
 plays is changing — each month sees a sur- 
 prising development. Whereas a few years 
 ago only one syndicate controlled the entire 
 American field, there are now four impor- 
 tant factions, while the so-called "open mar- 
 ket" is extending. 
 
 Time was when theatre proprietors were 
 forced to accept whatever pictures were 
 doled out to them by the exchanges. The ex-
 
 60 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 changes in turn took what they could get, 
 and the monopoHstic syndicate took the 
 "melon." The public was allowed to pay. 
 
 But, owing to the activities of the "inde- 
 pendents," who formed new companies, 
 fought the battle of distribution, and bat- 
 tered down the wall of the monopoly, it is 
 now possible for the theatre proprietor to 
 demand certain pictures from his exchange. 
 He is educated to its desirability by direct 
 advertising from the manufacturers, and his 
 patrons who follow the announcements of 
 the companies to a surprising extent, back 
 him up in his policy. The exchanges are 
 independent enough to purchase features 
 from other than their syndicate producers. 
 
 It has developed into survival of the fit- 
 test : when that is carried down to the foun- 
 dation, we see that the profits of the com- 
 panies depend upon the demand, and the 
 demand depends upon the steady and im- 
 proving qualitj' of their photoplays. So, 
 the opportunity of the writer is preeminent : 
 as Shakespeare says, "The play's the thing." 
 Stars, advertising, extravagant production 
 fail when the material upon which they are 
 expended is worthless. 
 
 The motion picture art, as has been truly 
 said by keen students of the drama as well as
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 61 
 
 of the commercial phases of theatrical 
 amusement, is only in its infancy. It has 
 passed through the cheaper amusement 
 houses, into the highest class theatres, is used 
 in schools, churches, universities, public in- 
 stitutions and industrial and political work. 
 It is not ephemeral : it has come to stay. It 
 provides instruction and inspiration as well 
 as amusement for millions, and at a pro rata 
 cost which makes it universal in appeal. The 
 motion picture has revolutionized the dra- 
 matic field in more ways than one : it is in the 
 province of the ambitious playwright to 
 carry its standard even higher, and by well- 
 founded progress in his own work to attain 
 rewards unequalled by that of any other line 
 of literary work. 
 
 Of the companies which are purchasing 
 scenarios, the following list gives the most 
 important. It is correct at the time of pub- 
 lication, but the playwright should keep 
 his own list up to date by constantly study- 
 ing the reports of development, as indicated 
 in the trade publications : 
 
 Bio graph Company, 807 East 175th 
 Street, New York. 
 
 Essanay Film Mfg. Co., 1333 Argyle 
 Street, Chicago, III. 
 
 Solax Company, Fort Lee, N. J.
 
 62 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Reliance Company j River dale Avenue, 
 YonkerSj N. Y. 
 
 Universal Film Mfg. Co. (editing all 
 scripts for Imp, Rex, Victor, Bison, Pow- 
 ers and Nestor) , Mecca Bldg., 48th Street, 
 New York. 
 
 Selig Polyscope Company, 20 E. Randolf 
 Street, Chicago, III. 
 
 Eclair Film Company, Fort Lee, N. J. 
 
 Thomas A. Edison, Inc. Studios, 2826 
 'Decatur Avenue, Bedford Park, N. Y. 
 
 Lubin Mfg. Co., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 The Vitagraph Co. of America, E. 15th 
 Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 Kalem Company, 237 West 23d Street, 
 New York. 
 
 Keystone Film Company, Longacre 
 Bldg., 42d Street, New York. 
 
 Kinemacolor Company, 1600 Broadway, 
 New York. 
 
 American Film Mfg. Co., Ashland Block, 
 Chicago, III, 
 
 Ramo Film Company, 102 West 101st 
 Street, New York. 
 
 Pathe Freres, 1 Congress Street, Jersey 
 City, N. J. 
 
 Mutual Film Company, 73 West 23rd 
 Street, New York.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 63 
 
 New York Motion Picture Company^ 
 JLongacre Building, New York. 
 
 Frontier, St. Louis Motion Picture Com- 
 pany, Santa Paula, Cal.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Mechanics of the Scenario. 
 
 AFTER careful and intelligent work in 
 the preparation of a scenario, the cru- 
 cial point comes when it is sent out 
 into the world to win or lose on its merits. 
 
 Too much care cannot be taken in the 
 preparation of manuscripts. The scenario 
 editor of a large company receives thou- 
 sands of scenarios every week. He keeps a 
 record of the name of the play, name and 
 address of the author, and he tries in every 
 way to safeguard it. 
 
 However, the writer should be very care- 
 ful to avoid the chance of loss or damage to 
 a manuscript. 
 
 A fine smooth quality of heavy white bond 
 paper should be used of the size of 8^2 "xll". 
 The slight difference in postage and in ex- 
 pense will be more than justified by the 
 pleasure with which a handsome manuscript 
 is read. The writer should always use fresh 
 black ribbons on his typewriter so that every 
 
 64
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 65 
 
 word will be clear and distinct. Spelling 
 and arrangement of the lines on the page 
 should also be faultless. 
 
 To reiterate an earlier but most important 
 hint, many a second rate scenario has so 
 pleased a pessimistic editor by evidence of 
 intelligence, cleanliness and clear thinking 
 on the part of the v^riter that he has paid a 
 first rate price for it, and then, personally 
 made changes which would improve its qual- 
 ity for production. 
 
 Every manuscript should be typewrit- 
 ten. Not one out of fifty editors or direc- 
 tors will bother with the reading of a hand 
 written manuscript because there are too 
 many good ones sent in which are type- 
 written neatly. 
 
 If the scenario writer will remember that 
 the editor is human, that his eyes are under 
 a strain continually, applying this idea to 
 every page of manuscript diligently, he will 
 make himself persona grata with "the pow- 
 ers that buy." 
 
 The full name and address of the author 
 should be typed in the upper left hand cor- 
 ner of the first page of the manuscript. On 
 this first page, in the middle of the sheet 
 should be presented the name of the play, 
 with the statement that it is an original
 
 66 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 photoplay for comedy or drama, as the case 
 may be, and the name of the author. 
 
 After the writer has attained a certain 
 recognition from companies, he is justified 
 in stating the price which he desires for 
 manuscripts on this first page as well, pref- 
 erably in the lower right hand corner. 
 
 On the second page of the manuscript it 
 is advisable to again write the name and ad- 
 dress of the author in the upper left hand 
 corner. On this page then, should be the 
 name of the play in capital letters, and under 
 it the word "Synopsis." If possible, this 
 should be presented on one page by itself, 
 single spaced. 
 
 Frequently when a manuscript is ac- 
 cepted, the synopsis page is given directly to 
 the advertising manager of the company, 
 while the rest of the manuscript is kept by 
 the director for production. The synopsis 
 is duplicated and is sent to the various mov- 
 ing picture magazines to be published in 
 their advance notices, in most instances word 
 for word. 
 
 On the third page of the manuscript 
 should be presented the cast of characters 
 as shown in the sample scenarios in this 
 book. On the lower part of this page the 
 author would do well to give a list of the
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 67 
 
 various settings needed, and a brief four or 
 ^ye word description for each one with the 
 numbers of the scenes next to each in which 
 they are used, shown in succession. 
 
 By this means the editor, at a glance, 
 reads the story and turning over the page 
 he finds the cast of characters neatly elab- 
 orated. 
 
 It should be noted that for photoplays we 
 should not imitate theatre programmes and 
 tack on ad libitum characters at the bottom 
 of the manuscript such as "chorus of vil- 
 lagers, policemen, flower girls, pedestrians, 
 etc.," but should specify the exact number 
 of characters needed, no matter how small 
 the part. For example; "Two constables, 
 five soldiers, three flower girls." 
 
 A list of settings, both interior and ex- 
 terior scenes, gives the scenario editor an 
 opportunity to estimate the approximate 
 cost of the entire picture from the producing 
 end. The cost and the lack of it are im- 
 portant factors in the production of all 
 photoplays. 
 
 The sooner a scenario writer masters the 
 art of holding down production costs by sim- 
 ple settings, small casts and picturesque 
 situations and landscapes, the sooner will his 
 reward be definite and frequent. A play
 
 68 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 with four leads, four extras and every day 
 American settings can be as strong or 
 stronger than one with two hundred actors. 
 It will undoubtedly be more direct in action 
 and appeal to producer and audience as well. 
 
 On the fourth page of the manuscript, 
 the name of the photoplay should be in capi- 
 tal letters at the top, and then the action 
 should be indicated, scene after scene, in 
 numbered sequence. For the sake of legi- 
 bility, letters, telegrams or signs which are 
 thrown on the screen should be boxed in 
 with a rule around them. 
 
 To make the pages attractive, and to 
 bring out salient features, it is well to under- 
 line with red ink the words "Scene 1, Scene 
 2," etc., as well as the phrase describing the 
 settings, which is well displayed by placing 
 it directly under the scene number. Drop- 
 ping a line below this, the particular action 
 should be depicted, as shown in the examples 
 in this book. 
 
 The best way to paragraph the actioti is 
 to single space each scene and leave one 
 space blank between the scenes. 
 
 The "business" or dramatic action should 
 be indicated thoroughly in each scene. Seven 
 or eight lines for each should suffice for al- 
 most any "business" — sometimes less, except
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 69 
 
 in instances of intense and involved dramatic 
 action. Too much verbosity tires the direc- 
 tor who has to alter the situations for his 
 own purposes in many presentations. 
 
 It should be remembered that quotations 
 are always given in "flashes." That is, dur- 
 ing the action of a scene, the character will 
 go through his part and the words desired to 
 be shown to the audience will be interpolated 
 in the film in printed sub-title form, at the 
 exact moment that he speaks them. The ac- 
 tion then goes on as he closes his mouth, 
 to the finish of the scene. These speeches 
 and "flash in" phrases are of great technical 
 importance, and the success or failure of a 
 picture may depend upon it. 
 
 Letters, telegrams and messages are gen- 
 erally exhibited in some manner during the 
 action of a scene, and the author should in- 
 dicate them with these words: "Letter on 
 Screen" or "Flash." 
 
 The writer should remember that with 
 telegrams and letters, it is frequently best 
 dramatic policy to hold the spectators in sus- 
 pense as to the contents of a letter. Great 
 power may be given to a vital idea by skill- 
 ful delay in presentation of a message to 
 the spectator until several characters in the
 
 70 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 play have read it and shown in different 
 ways its effect upon them. 
 
 SUSPENSE in the bosom of the specta- 
 tor is as necessary for the success of the dra- 
 matic presentation as STRUGGLE in the 
 action of the characters I 
 
 The uncertainty of outcome, the surprise 
 of the successive incidents of the play, — 
 these keep the audience in sympathy with 
 the participants, holding them spellbound, 
 until the final scene or denouement. 
 
 The earmark of the amateur is the presen- 
 tation of dramatic incidents in a manner so 
 ingenuous as to let the observer know exactly 
 how everything will turn out. 
 
 In other words, the spectator must be 
 "kept guessing," as well as the characters. 
 The writer who can present his play in a 
 direct manner, while maintaining suspense 
 which will be evident to the editor and the 
 director, is the one who has caught the great 
 secret. The director can then embellish this 
 suspense v/ith his own skill, and by "busi- 
 ness" which was undreamed of bv the writer. 
 
 But, first, last and between whiles, the 
 playwright must remember that he is selHng 
 not only his idea but the way in which it is 
 arranged. He must above all be the direc- 
 tor, as it were, of his script, so as to produce
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 71 
 
 upon the purchasing powers that be, a clear 
 and complete understanding of its strength 
 and value. Accordingly, too much care can 
 not be expended upon the succinct and artis- 
 tic involution of these sequential scenes! 
 
 At the end of this description of the ac- 
 tion the author will increase his scenario's 
 value to the director by adding a page 
 marked: "Director's Sheet." This should 
 have a column of numbers on the left mar- 
 gin indicating the order of the scenes worked 
 out in the preceding pages. 
 
 In five or six words should be the indica- 
 tion of the action in that scene, as for ex- 
 ample : 
 
 1. Young inventor working on patent. . . . 
 
 2. Landlady evicts inventor from house . . . 
 
 3. Applying in vain for job at factory. . . . 
 
 4. Inventor saves child's life in runaway . . 
 
 5. Inventor carried into millionaire's home 
 
 6. Inventor convalescing. Millionaire 
 
 promises aid, etc 
 
 Room should be left at the right hand 
 side of the page for the director to mark 
 down the number of feet of film used for 
 photographing each scene. 
 
 When a director has worked for a week
 
 72 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 on a well written manuscript on strong 
 paper with simple, direct descriptions of the 
 story, he is naturally impressed by the value 
 of the author's work and is sure to remem- 
 ber the name of a painstaking writer. 
 
 It is very often the case that the director 
 makes a request to the scenario editor for 
 more stories from the same author; this has 
 started many a writer on the road to per- 
 manent success as a photoplay wright. 
 
 Don't bind up the pages of a manuscript. 
 Clasp with clips which can easily be loosened. 
 Ribbons and stitches and other fancy tricks 
 are a waste of time and irritating to a busi- 
 ness-like editor or director. 
 
 It is advisable to use manuscript cover 
 paper as the final sheet. This should be 
 8%xll^ inches. It is placed at the back 
 of the manuscript and the additional % of 
 an inch is folded down over the front. The 
 clips can then be slipped over the binding. 
 
 The scenario should be folded with two 
 creases which divide it into three horizontal 
 panels. The name of the scenario and the 
 name and address of the author should be 
 written or neatly hand-printed on the back 
 middle fold of this cover paper. 
 
 The cover keeps the white sheets from be- 
 ing crumpled and can be replaced easily
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 73 
 
 when soiled. The title page should always 
 be replaced if it contains finger marks or 
 lead pencil scratchings. This can be easily 
 done if the manuscript is bound with loose- 
 fitting clips, instead of "clinchers." 
 
 When an editor receives a dog-eared 
 manuscript marred by finger prints and 
 blots, he naturally realizes that the scenario 
 has been tried and found wanting in other 
 studios and a certain prejudice is created in 
 his own mind against it. 
 
 The best system for sending photoplays 
 to the editors is to use two sizes of govern- 
 ment stamped envelopes. These can be pur- 
 chased in lots of fifty, cheaper with two cent 
 stamps on them, than the plain ones in the 
 stationery stores, while the paper is very 
 strong and the mucilage is of the "stick-to- 
 it" kind. 
 
 A 9-inch envelope should be used for the 
 return of the manuscript with the writer's 
 name and address distinctly written on it. 
 It is advisable to write in the upper left hand 
 corner of this envelope the name and address 
 of the company to which it has been sent so 
 that, should any accident blur the writer's 
 name on the envelope, it stands a better 
 chance of eventually escaping the Dead Let- 
 ter Office.
 
 74 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 This 9-inch envelope with the manuscript 
 should be placed inside the nine and one-half 
 inch envelope which bears the address of the 
 company to which the manuscript is to be 
 submitted. The writer's name and address 
 should be given in the upper left hand cor- 
 ner of the larger envelope and in all cases 
 manuscripts should be addressed to the "Sce- 
 nario Editor" rather than to any particular 
 person connected with the company. 
 
 In the motion picture profession scenario 
 editors come and go (for better or worse!) 
 with startling rapidity. It is illegal for a 
 company to open an envelope personally ad- 
 dressed to an appointed editor and this in 
 itself is the cause of lost manuscript, delayed 
 replies and literary heartaches. 
 
 Now, here is a secret which saves postage 
 in many instances, for many scripts are re- 
 turned in company envelopes, with a two 
 cent stamp and the author loses the full 
 postage paid on his own envelope. 
 
 A two cent stamp, no matter how heavy 
 the envelope, will suffice to bring back a 
 manuscript upon its rejection, because it is a 
 first-class matter. The author can pay the 
 postage due at his own address. But the 
 large envelope which goes to the producing
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 75 
 
 company should be carefully weighed in 
 every instance and fully stamped. 
 
 Editors are human and when they or their 
 company have to pay eight or ten cents in 
 postage on a manuscript insufficiently pre- 
 paid, there is a natural inclination to deduct 
 about $10 interest on the investment, even 
 should the scenario itself be valuable! 
 
 The insufficient postage bugaboo has 
 scared away many a good scenario with 
 magazine publishers as well as in motion 
 picture work. 
 
 As for the recording of manuscripts, the 
 photoplay writer should file at least one car- 
 bon copy of every play. To that carbon he 
 should add a sheet showing to whom it was 
 sent. The date of mailing and of its return 
 should also be listed. In this way he keeps 
 a perfect record of every manuscript and in 
 case of loss of the original, he can easily 
 make a duplicate. 
 
 According to law, no manuscript is sold 
 for use in production until the author has 
 signed a receipt or endorsed his name on 
 check in payment for it. 
 
 When one company keeps a manuscript 
 two or three months and the author has an 
 opportunity to sell it in the interim, he is 
 entitled to do so. He need not worry over
 
 76 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 the consequences should the other company 
 produce the play without having notified him 
 of its acceptance. However, it is both pru- 
 dent and courteous to send a notification of 
 the sale, and a cancellation of the previous 
 offer of the photoplay to the first company. 
 This avoids embarrassment and a possible 
 affront, in case the manuscript should have 
 been accepted and held pending the action 
 of a well meaning but careless editor. 
 
 To mail more than one copy of a story to 
 purchasing companies at the same time is a 
 breach of literary ethics which will effectual- 
 ly place an author on the "black list" if such 
 a practice should be discovered. 
 
 One month is ample time for the consid- 
 eration of a manuscript. 
 
 A few companies are courteous and large 
 enough to provide facilities for judgment 
 within three or four days. Yet, other good 
 companies have methods of purchase — such 
 as submission at weekly meetings to a board 
 of producing directors — which make im- 
 mediate decision on a good manuscript im- 
 possible. 
 
 A bad script can not be returned too 
 quickly to satisfy the editor! So, in many 
 instances "no news is good news," for a 
 fortnight or so.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 77 
 
 When you have a good original idea and 
 a powerfully written script, do not be dis- 
 couraged by repeated rejections, nor by the 
 advice of editors who say "this topic is so- 
 and-so," and "that one is trite." What one 
 editor does not desire or need, another may. 
 A story should be repeatedly kept in motion 
 if it has merit, for the supply is not up to the 
 demand. 
 
 Instead of attempting to rewrite a script 
 after two or three rejections it is better to 
 expend the same energy in creating a new 
 photoplay. 
 
 After a story has gone the rounds it is not 
 at all a bad idea to change the title, and if 
 the script looks dirty to have it transcribed. 
 But one thing is sure: good material, 
 founded on virile situations and with 
 that originality which an author can judge 
 best in his own heart, is bound to sell some 
 day. 
 
 The art of photoplay writing has much of 
 the elements of ordinary commercial work. 
 To make an impression upon the companies 
 the author should systematically maintain a 
 regular output of scripts. It is not too much 
 to send one or two out weekly, in a definite 
 sequence of companies. 
 
 If the mechanical work is good, and the
 
 78 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 quality uniform or improving, the editors 
 are bound to recognize the recurrence of the 
 particular author's name. This is the appli- 
 cation of the salesman's art ; continual drop- 
 ping will wear away the stone. Persistent 
 WTiting improves the skill of the craftsman 
 as well as establishing recognition of his 
 name, and growing interest in his work 
 among the people who can pay for it. 
 
 It is an admirable plan to keep "tabs" on 
 the time required by various companies in 
 returning manuscripts submitted. Some 
 give decisions within three days, others — 
 well-known and honorable at that — require 
 two months to decide upon the purchases. 
 What they do during this long period is a 
 mystery, but the fact remains. By listing 
 the prompt editors, the author may evolve a 
 schedule of mailing, by which his manu- 
 scripts may visit six or seven studios during 
 the first month, and then go on the long-time 
 circuit afterward. Method, even applied to 
 hope deferred, is sure to bring results ! 
 
 This book is not a collection of "don'ts," 
 but of "do's." 
 
 So, it is left to the reader to formulate 
 his own schedule of iron-bound rules. The 
 essential of success may be summarized sim- 
 ply in this closing text:
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 79 
 
 CHOOSE GOOD THEMES, COM- 
 IC, ROMANTIC, OR DRAMATIC: 
 WORK HARD IN PRESENTING 
 THEM IN DRAMATIC FORM 
 WHICH WILL BE WORTH MONEY 
 TO THE PURCHASING COMPA- 
 NIES! 
 
 KEEP THE MAILS BUSY WITH 
 YOUR SCRIPTS. WRITE PER- 
 SISTENTLY AND JUDICIOUSLY.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sample Scenarios. 
 
 INASMUCH as this is indeed a picture 
 age — when illustrations are essential, 
 for making, selling, buying, study, — 
 we hereby offer two scenarios of opposite 
 types, for the reader to see the exact form 
 in which two scripts were presented to the 
 editor and the director. 
 
 "Love Incog," and "The Chap From 
 Broadway" were produced as written 
 (under different titles), by two different 
 companies. 
 
 It may be of interest to know that both 
 scripts were accepted without the author's 
 name attached, and in competition with more 
 than one hundred others considered in the 
 same manner. 
 
 The writer of this book directed both pro- 
 ductions, and every scene was carried out 
 exactly as indicated in the "business" of the 
 manuscript. 
 
 Very few titles were given, in the photo- 
 play script, because the stories worked them- 
 
 80
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 81 
 
 selves out without the need of explanatory 
 printing. It cannot be definitely decided, in 
 advance, as to just what titles are needed, 
 and so they were left to the discretion of the 
 producer, to be placed in afterwards. 
 
 It must be understood that this form of 
 presentation is not dogmatic; the writer 
 merely presents his own theories, after many 
 years experience with successful scenarios, 
 the actual work of selecting casts, staging 
 the photoplays, handling the advertising of 
 different companies, managing the sale and 
 distribution of films and features. 
 
 The forms indicated here cover all the 
 essential needs for an acceptable scenario, in 
 as small space as possible. The ambitious 
 and studious playwright can doubtless devise 
 his own improvements on these suggestions, 
 after observing what has already been ac- 
 complished with definite system and care.
 
 "LOVE INCOG." 
 
 An Original Comedy For Photoplay. 
 
 Synopsis. 
 
 Harry Parsons, temporarily embarrassed 
 by some bad stock speculations, loves rich 
 Dolly Gray. Dolly is made miserable by an 
 impetuous French Fortune Hunter, Count 
 Briebert, whose suit is favored by Dolly's 
 mother. Mrs. Gray, to clinch the title, in- 
 vites him to a dance that night, to which 
 Harry is invited by Dolly's brother Dan. 
 Harry is almost captured by the creditors 
 and the sheriff, but Dan helps him to escape 
 over the roofs and in an automobile to his 
 own home. The Sheriff gets on the trail, 
 however, and follows to the Gray home. 
 Here he waits for his victim. Dolly is dis- 
 gusted at the Count's attentions and refuses 
 to go to the dance, but Dan evolves a scheme. 
 He promises his mother to bring Dolly and 
 so Mrs. Gray leaves with the Count. Dan 
 persuades Harry and Dolly to dress in each 
 other's clothes and to go to the dance that 
 way — without letting either know of the 
 
 82
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 85 
 
 other's plan. He tricks the Sheriff again, 
 but the latter follows to the dance hall. 
 Harry as the "beautiful stranger" makes a 
 great hit with the fellows, especially the 
 Count. 
 
 At the dance the pretended boy has great 
 fun with the Count, insults him, challenges 
 him, and fights a duel, proving that the Count 
 is a coward and a sneak. Meanwhile, Harry 
 is raising old nick with his pretended femi- 
 ninity and shocks the girls by dancing 
 Turkey Trots and smoking cigarettes as he 
 waltzes. The Count tries to make love to 
 him, and he is "walloped" by Harry just as 
 Dolly comes in, and recognizes the supposed 
 girl. While the dance is going on, and com- 
 plications setting in, Harry's lawyer follows 
 to the country club to bring him the settle- 
 ment due him, to square his finances. The 
 young people are warned of the Sheriff's 
 approach and they elude him as he enters the 
 dance hall. Dolly agrees to elope, with Dan 
 and the lawyer as witnesses and they hunt 
 up a sleepy, jolly country parson who, de- 
 spite his temporary bewilderment, enters into 
 the fun and marries them — in their reversed 
 costumes! They change their clothes in a 
 comic situation and speed back to the dance, 
 where the Sheriff is holding everyone up at
 
 84 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 the pistol point. Harry pays his debts, 
 proves his identity, and tells the joke, the 
 Sheriff calls off his posse, and everyone is 
 happy except the Count when the marriage 
 is announced. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Parts: 
 
 Harry Parsons, a young club man in debt. 
 
 Dolly Gray, his sweetheart. 
 
 Mrs. Gray, her mother. 
 
 Dan Gray, her son, Harry's chum. 
 
 Count Briebert, a fortune chaser. 
 
 The Sheriff, — with a warrant for Harry. 
 
 Extras : 
 
 Harry's lawyer, a serious looking man. 
 The marrying Parson, a jolly old soul. 
 Ten girls at dance. 
 Ten fellows at dance. 
 The chauffeur. 
 The maid. 
 
 Sets — Exteriors 22. Interiors 30. 
 
 SCENE PLOT 
 
 Harry's bachelor apartment 1-4-8. 
 
 Lawyer's office 2-21. 
 
 Exterior, Harry's residence 3. 
 
 Music room, Dolly's home 5-14-18-23-28-30.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 85 
 
 Exterior Dolly's home,— porch, 6-13-17-19- 
 27-31-37-41. 
 
 Front of Harry's apartment 7-11. 
 Roof of apartment building 9. 
 Back yard, on ground 10. 
 Street corner 12-16. 
 Dan's room 15-20-22-25-34-36. 
 Dolly's boudoir 24-26-29-33-35. 
 Entrance of driveway 32-38-40-42. 
 The Dance Hall 39-43-46-49-52. 
 Anteroom 44-47. 
 Exterior of dance hall 48. 
 Exterior, minister's house 50. 
 Interior, minister's house 51. 
 Lonely road 45. 
 
 THE ACTION 
 
 Scene 1. 
 Interior: Harri/s bachelor apartment. 
 Harry, worried, counting bills, calling up 
 lawyer on telephone. 
 
 Scene 2. 
 Interior', Lawyer's office. 
 Lawyer at 'phone, shakes head. Flash 
 in: 
 
 "Not a cent has come from your 
 stocks yet — there's five thousand due.
 
 86 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 When it comes I'll bring it right up to 
 
 you/' 
 
 Lawyer hangs up receiver. 
 
 Scene 3. 
 Exterior: Harry's residence. 
 Flash of sheriff outside Harry's resi- 
 dence, holding warrants. 
 
 Scene 4. 
 
 Interior: Harry's apartment as in 1. 
 
 SherilfF comes in and demands money. 
 Threatening to take out furniture. Harry 
 begs off, gives him drinks, etc., but Sheriff 
 goes — giving him three hours. Other credi- 
 tors come, presenting bills, but Harry is 
 helpless. 
 
 Scene 5. 
 
 Interior: Holly's house — music room. 
 
 Count Briebert calling. Mother gushing, 
 Dolly shows that she wears a solitaire secret- 
 ly. She is greatly bored. Dan, her brother, 
 comes in, much disgusted at presence of 
 Count. He exits to see his friend, Harry. 
 
 Scene 6. 
 Exterior : Front of Dolly's home. 
 Dan coming down steps angrily. Gets 
 into the car, and drives off.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 87 
 
 Scene 7. 
 
 Exterior: Front of bachelor apartment 
 building. 
 
 Sheriff waiting around door. Dan enters, 
 taking in meaning of situation. 
 
 Scene 8. 
 
 Interior: Harry's apartment as in 1. 
 
 Enter Dan, amused at Harry's grouch. 
 He offers him all the money he has — Harry 
 indicates that it is not enough. They peer 
 out of the window. Dan suggests an escape, 
 by the rear. He reminds Harry of dance 
 that night. Harry packs a little grip with 
 his dress suit, pumps, etc., and they slip out 
 of room. 
 
 Scene 9. 
 Exterior: Roof of apartment building. 
 They peer over, see Sheriff in front. They 
 
 come down fire escape or lightning rod. 
 
 (Two camera positions.) 
 
 Scene 10. 
 Exterior: On ground, back yard. 
 They have escaped the Sheriff and the 
 creditors. They disappear through doorway 
 to street.
 
 88 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 11. 
 
 Exterior: Apartment building as in 7. 
 
 Dan walks up and gets into car. Sheriff's 
 suspicions are aroused. He tries to stop him 
 but Harry orders chauff*eur to speed. 
 
 Scene 12. 
 
 Exterior: Street corner. 
 
 Harry waits for Dan's automobile and as 
 it comes, climbs into it with grip. Sheriff 
 follows on the run and shakes fist as they 
 ride away laughingly. 
 
 Scene 13. 
 
 Exterior : Dolly's home as in 6, 
 
 Motor drives up with Harry and Dan. 
 
 Scene 14. 
 
 Interior: Music room as in 5. 
 
 Count singing affectedly as Dolly plays, 
 
 and mother sighs with bliss. Dolly sees the 
 
 two boys go past in hallway, but dares not 
 
 leave. 
 
 Scene 15. 
 Interior: Dan's room. 
 Boys arrive in Dan's room. They discuss 
 their plans.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 89 
 
 Scene 16. 
 
 Exterior: Street, 
 
 Sheriff on street — has taken number of 
 auto, and following to home of registered 
 owner. 
 
 Scene 17. 
 
 Exterior: Front of Gray mansion as in 6. 
 Sheriff arrives. Boys see him from sec- 
 ond story window. He discovers number on 
 machine to be one taken by him. He de- 
 mands knowledge of Harry. Tough chauf- 
 feur orders him off the grounds. Sheriff 
 shows badge and papers, and goes up steps. 
 He rings the bell angrily and maid comes 
 to door. 
 
 Scene 18. 
 
 Interior: Music room as in 5. 
 Mrs. Gray and Count frightened when 
 maid and Sheriff enter. He demands Harry. 
 Dolly shows that she understands but denies 
 Harry's presence. Sheriff exits. 
 
 Scene 19. 
 Exterior: Porch again as in 6, 
 Sheriff exits threateningly, to wait down 
 the street. Maid enters house again, slam- 
 ming door.
 
 90 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 20. 
 Interior: Dan's room again as in 15, 
 Harry and Dan worried and trying to 
 figure out what they shall do. Harry calls 
 up lawyer again, using Dan's telephone. 
 
 Scene 21. 
 Interior: Lawyer's office as in 2, 
 
 Lawyer shakes his head — no news of 
 money coming. 
 
 Scene 22. 
 Interior: Dans room as in 15, 
 
 Dolly knocks and enters. She warns them 
 about the Sheriff whom they see through 
 the window. She offers Harry the solitaire 
 which he has given her to pawn for the 
 necessary funds, but of course he refuses. 
 She hears her mother calling. Dolly leaves 
 Dan's room. The fellows are angry about 
 the Count. Harry gets an idea and tells it 
 to Dan who is delighted. Dan leaves room, 
 while Harry begins to primp in burlesque 
 manner before the mirror. 
 
 Scene 23. 
 Interior: Music room as in 5. 
 Dolly bidding farewell to Count, who 
 kisses her hand smirkingly. She slaps his
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 91 
 
 face to her mother's horror. He leaves 
 "cutey-cutey" and says he will call for her to 
 go to the dance. 
 
 Scene 24. 
 Interior: Dolly's boudoir, 
 Dan carrying dresses from Dolly's closet. 
 
 Scene 25. 
 
 Interior: Dans room as in 16. 
 
 Later. Dan is secretly giving Harry 
 some supper, and Harry is half-dressed in 
 girl's clothes, and smoking a pipe with his 
 feet crossed. Harry begins to primp up 
 now, and put on his wig, etc., which Dan 
 has secured. 
 
 Scene 26. 
 
 Interior: Dolly's room as in 2 A. 
 
 Dolly is crying, holding Harry's photo, 
 and kissing it unhappily — fearing she can 
 never w ed him. 
 
 Scene 27. 
 Exterior: Dolly's home as in 6. 
 Count comes up with silk hat and evening 
 clothes to call for Dolly.
 
 92 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 28. 
 Interior: Music room as in 5. 
 Mother dressed for the dance, greets 
 Count effusively. Goes for Dolly. Count 
 adjusts rose in buttonhole and admires him- 
 self. 
 
 Scene 29. 
 
 Interior : Dolly's room as in 24. 
 Dolly weeping. Mother enters and Dolly 
 refuses to go to dance with the Count. Exit 
 Mother furiously, after calling her daughter 
 an ungrateful child. 
 
 Scene 30. 
 
 Interior: Music room as in 5. 
 
 Enter Mother, weeping, tells Count. Dan 
 
 comes in, comforts her, promises to bring 
 
 his sister, and the Count takes Mother out 
 
 and into the machine he came in. 
 
 Scene 31. 
 Exterior: Dolly's home as in 6, 
 The Count escorts Dolly's mother to 
 dance in automobile. 
 
 Scene 32. 
 Exterior: At the entrance of the driveway. 
 The Sheriff stops the car, but seeing only
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 93 
 
 the Count and Dolly's mother, he lets them 
 pass out. 
 
 Scene 33. 
 Interior: Dolly's room as in S4. 
 Enter brother, who tells her to cheer up. 
 He has an idea. Asks if she would like to 
 square things with the Count, and if she will 
 do what he says. She promises, and Dan 
 howls with mirth. He exits, — Dolly 
 amazed. He returns with Harry's dress 
 clothes. 
 
 Scene 34. 
 
 Interior: Dans room as in 15. 
 Harry almost ready with girl's costume, 
 still smoking pipe, though. 
 
 Scene 35. 
 Interior: Dolly's room as in ^A' 
 Dolly is just putting on coat and strug- 
 gling with the boy's necktie. 
 
 Scene 36. 
 
 Interior: Dans room as in 15. 
 
 Harry is ready. Dan has brought in one 
 of Dolly's perfume bottles and douses him 
 with it, to his disgust. Dan wraps an opera 
 cloak about him and they go down stairs.
 
 94 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 37. 
 
 Exterior: Dolly's home as in 6. 
 
 The machine has returned for Dan and 
 
 his sister, and winking at the chauffeur, Dan 
 
 takes Dolly into it, and they speed down the 
 
 driveway. 
 
 Scene 38. 
 
 Exterior: The driveway as in 82. 
 Sheriff stops the auto, but seeing only 
 Dan and a supposed girl, lets them go past. 
 
 Scene 39. 
 Interior: At the dance. 
 Dan enters with the beautiful stranger on 
 his arm. "She" makes an immense hit, espe- 
 cially with the volatile Count, who asks for 
 half a dozen dances. Dan hurries back for 
 his sister. 
 
 Scene 40. 
 
 Exterior: Driveway as in 32, 
 Dan passing in and arousing the Sheriff's 
 suspicions. 
 
 Scene 41. 
 
 Exterior: Front Porch as in 6. 
 Dan calls, and Dolly, assisted by maid, 
 comes out in Harry's overcoat, entering the 
 automobile with her brother.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 95 
 
 Scene 42. 
 
 Exterior: Driveway as in 32. 
 
 The Sheriff, flourishing his revolver, stops 
 auto, sure of culprit. He tugs at Dolly, 
 through doorway, but Dan gives him a push 
 which sends him sprawling on road. They 
 speed away, and the Sheriff is after them, 
 limping but determined. 
 
 Scene 43. 
 
 Interior: At the dance as in 39. 
 
 Enter Dan and his "gent" friend. Dan 
 introduces him to girls who like him very 
 much. "He" insults the Count, who chal- 
 lenges him to a duel. "He" promptly ac- 
 cepts and they step into an ante-room. 
 
 Scene 44. 
 
 Interior: Ante-room or parlor ^ outside of 
 dancing room. 
 
 Count and three or four fellows, with 
 Dan and "him." "He" goes for the Count 
 and begins to punch him up, until the Count, 
 not waiting for the duel, falls on his knees 
 and begs for mercy. His apology is ac- 
 cepted and the party returns to the dance.
 
 96 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 45. 
 Eccterio?': Lonely road. 
 Sheriif running along, with a limp and a 
 waddle. 
 
 Scene 46. 
 Interior: Dance hall as in 39. 
 
 Girls all jealous of Harry, who is attract- 
 ing all the fellows who want dances. Harry- 
 shows some stocking. This disgusts Mrs. 
 Gray and makes a hit with the Count, who 
 has been talking to her. He goes over and 
 gets a dance at once. Harry asks Count for 
 cigarette, and smokes it as he turkey trots 
 with the Count. Chauffeur enters and warns 
 Dan about Sheriff, who takes his sister out 
 into ante-room. 
 
 Scene 47. 
 Interior: Ante-room as in AA. 
 
 Enter Dan and sister. They are worried 
 now. But, just as they are planning a get- 
 away, to dodge the Sheriff, in comes Harry 
 and the Count. Dan and his sister hide be- 
 hind a screen. The Count proposes to the 
 supposed beauty, and declares that all he 
 wants the other girl for is her money. Dolly 
 is furious, but Dan restrains her. Harry 
 simply mops up the ground with the Count, 
 and Dolly recognizes her fiance. She rushes
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 97 
 
 out and he recognizes her — they are both 
 dumfounded. Harry proposes that they 
 get away quickly. They agree and Dolly 
 promises that she will marry him on the spot. 
 They exeunt. 
 
 Scene 48. 
 Exterior: Before the club liouse, exterior of 
 
 dance hall. 
 They are just getting into the auto, when 
 up rushes Harry's lawyer, asking if he is at 
 the dance. Harry explains his identity, but 
 the poor man is overcome. He finally recog- 
 nizes Harry on close inspection, and gives 
 him a wallet with the money which had been 
 held up so long. They drag him into the 
 auto for a witness and exeunt. 
 
 Scene 49. 
 Interior: Dance hall as in 39. 
 Sheriff enters, heavily armed, terrorizes 
 dancers by marching on floor and demand- 
 ing Harry; Mrs. Gray faints in Count's 
 arms. 
 
 Scene 50. 
 Exterior: Front of minister's house. 
 He sticks head (in night cap) out of win- 
 dow, as party stops there and knocks. He 
 lets them in.
 
 98 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 51. 
 
 Interior: Minister s parlor {glass flowers, 
 old-fasJiioned stuff, etc.). 
 
 Enter minister in dressing gown, carry- 
 ing testament, and still wearing night cap — 
 very sleepy. The young couple stand up. 
 To his surprise, Dan "gives away" the ap- 
 parent young man. The apparent young 
 lady presents the ring. The "young man" 
 promises to love, honor and obey, and the 
 brother kisses the "young man" while the 
 "young woman" pulls up his skirt and takes 
 out the money for the marriage fee from his 
 rolled up trousers, etc. The minister col- 
 lapses, but is told of the whole joke, and 
 then, being jolly, he kisses the "young man" 
 himself and laughs. Harry whispers to him, 
 and points to a screen. The minister nods, 
 and leads the others out. Harry kisses his 
 bride, and then they undress on either side 
 of the screen (camera is tilted to show only 
 top of screen and hands when they throw 
 clothes over top of it; it is lowered again 
 when they have exchanged clothes) . Minis- 
 ter and others are called in and they rub 
 their eyes at the change. Exeunt bidding 
 good-bye to the parson.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 99 
 
 Scene 52. 
 
 Interior: Dance hall as in 39. 
 
 Mother still unconscious, but comes to 
 with a start when Count drops her to run 
 forward and greet Dolly, who enters with 
 Harry, Dan and the lawyer. She repulses 
 him. The Sheriff levels his gun on the new- 
 comers, but recognizes the lawyer with a 
 start and lowers it. Harry hands him the 
 money for the judgment and the Sheriff 
 rubs his eyes, and cusses — he is determined 
 to arrest him for resisting him, until Harry 
 takes him aside and tells him the joke. The 
 Sheriff laughs and blurts it all out — con- 
 gratulating the happy pair. Everyone roars 
 over the fun and the mother finally forgives 
 the new son-in-law, when assured by the law- 
 yer that he is now a very rich man, and the 
 Count sobs and wrings his hands in grief, as 
 he realizes that he has lost another fortune. 
 
 The End.
 
 "THE CHAP FROM BROADWAY." 
 
 An Original Drama for Photoplay, 
 
 Synopsis. 
 
 HENRY ALLEN, a hustling New 
 Yorker, goes to the timber regions 
 of Tennessee to make some big pur- 
 chases of land for a rich syndicate. He goes 
 to see old Ezekial Burrows, the biggest land- 
 holder of the neighborhood, whose pretty 
 daughter Betsy, makes a conquest at sight. 
 Betsy is beloved by a rough, handsome and 
 unscrupulous mountain fellow, named Clay 
 Nash, who intends to gain the girl for a wife 
 and the old man's timber lands for himself. 
 The arrival of the stranger enrages Clay, 
 who determines to "show up" the city fellow 
 by frightening him, and driving him back 
 to the city in disgrace. Henry Allen puts 
 up such a resistance, never lacking his sense 
 of humor, that Clay is driven to desperation 
 and with some of his mountaineer clansmen 
 he tries to murder the visitor. They are told 
 that Allen is a deputy for Uncle Sam, 
 searching for illicit stills, and they swear to 
 
 100
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 101 
 
 kill the city chap. While Allen is inspecting 
 timber lands with old Burrows he is cap- 
 tured by a treacherous ruse and taken to the 
 gang headquarters, an old mountain farm- 
 house. Betsy has learned of their trickery 
 and comes to the house to beg Clay for his 
 release. Allen hears her talking with Clay 
 as he slips away, and believes that she is 
 really in love with the mountaineer. He 
 escapes through a window, jumping to a tree 
 nearby, and mounts his horse, galloping back 
 to Burrows' home where he has been stop- 
 ping. He signs the agreement to purchase 
 the old man's holding, and is starting away 
 on his long ride to the railroad with her 
 father to guide him, when Betsy rides up 
 breathlessly to warn them that the gangsters 
 are after them. They barricade the house, 
 awaiting the mountaineers. Clay enters, 
 leaving his men outside on guard. Clay ac- 
 cuses Allen of stealing his sweetheart, but 
 Betsy blushingly declares that she loves not 
 him, but the city man. Clay staggers, and 
 starts to walk out, realizing his defeat. As 
 he turns to look at them, in the doorway, the 
 city man offers his hand and Clay's manly 
 instincts conquer, and he acknowledges his 
 defeat with his good wishes, promising to 
 send his men away and to leave the new-
 
 102 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 comer undisturbed. Old Burrows, his daugh- 
 ter and Allen follow Clay to the gate. As 
 the happy lovers wave farewell, he starts on 
 up the mountain road, head hanging and 
 dragging his gun, as he leads his horse with 
 the others. The last view shows a silhouette 
 against the sunset sky as Clay ascends a high 
 peak of the mountain to gaze sadly into the 
 valley below, where he has lost his happiness, 
 but gained the great lesson of manliness. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Parts: 
 
 Henry Allen, the city chap, clever young 
 
 New York business man. 
 Ezekial Burrows, old Tennessean, rich 
 
 landow^ner. 
 Betsy, his pretty daughter. 
 Clay Nash, a handsome and dissolute 
 
 mountaineer. 
 
 Extras: 
 
 Burrows' hired man. 
 First mountaineer. 
 Second mountaineer. 
 Third mountaineer. 
 Fourth mountaineer. 
 
 Director of Syndicate, a New York busi- 
 ness man.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 103 
 
 Second director. 
 Third director. 
 
 SCENE PLOT. 
 
 Interiors: 
 
 Office in New York — 1. 
 Burrows' living room~5-7-9-16-18-35-39. 
 Mountaineers' saloon — 24-26-29. 
 Small attic room — 25-30. 
 
 Exteriors: 
 All photographed around Palisades dis- 
 trict. 
 
 30 scenes (either snow or bare). 
 
 THE ACTION. 
 
 Scene 1. 
 Interior: Office. 
 Henry leaving his office and bidding fare- 
 well to directors of big syndicate, on his way 
 to buy land in Tennessee. They wish him 
 luck. 
 
 Scene 2. 
 
 Exterior: Station. 
 Henry arrives at mountain station of rail- 
 road. Met by Ezekial Burrows' hired man. 
 Rides away with him.
 
 104 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 3. 
 Exterior: Mountain scene. 
 Riding along mountainous country stretch 
 with heavy timber. Man and Allen talking 
 about the timber. 
 
 Scene 4. 
 Exterior: Burrows' house. 
 Arrival at house. Greeted by old man at 
 front porch. 
 
 Scene 5. 
 Interior: Burrows' house. 
 Allen meets pretty Betsy and falls in love 
 at sight. He gets down to business with the 
 old man, who insists on making him comfort- 
 able at first. Log fire, big chimney, etc. 
 Betsy gets good things for him to eat. Hen- 
 ry lays out proposal of the syndicate. Old 
 man tells fears of the mountaineer gang 
 led by Clay Nash. 
 
 Scene 6. 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in 4. 
 Clay Nash arrives with two other horse- 
 men. Inquires from hired man about pur- 
 pose of stranger. Goes up steps, listens at 
 door and then enters.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 105 
 
 Scene 7. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 5. 
 
 Clay enters and breaks up conference. 
 Clay very insulting to the stranger, while 
 Allen is diplomatic and "kids" him along. 
 Quarrel between Clay and Betsy there, and 
 Clay exits threatening the stranger, and dar- 
 ing him to come outside. 
 
 Scene 8. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in 4-. 
 
 Clay comes outside, and gives orders to 
 his two men to wait in ambush for the 
 stranger. 
 
 Scene 9. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 5, 
 
 Allen talks a minute with the old man and 
 his daughter, who warns him. He laughs, 
 pulls out his revolver, and throws it on the 
 table, to show them that he has a different 
 method. 
 
 Scene 10. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in A. 
 
 Allen on porch, he laughs at Clay, and 
 ■walks down steps with him.
 
 106 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 11. 
 
 Exterior: Froin window. 
 
 Ten-foot flash of girl and old man at win- 
 dow, watching fearfullj^ 
 
 Scene 12. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in A. 
 
 Allen and Clay walking along, and Allen 
 asking the other to help him buy up timber 
 lands. Clay denounces Allen as a revenue 
 spy. Allen laughs, and Clay, seeing a good 
 chance, takes off his hat, and steps to one 
 side. It is a signal, and two gun shots come 
 from a clump of nearby bushes. Allen drops 
 low, and is unhurt. Instantly he springs up, 
 grabs Clay by the neck and gives him some 
 jiu-jitsu, holding him between the two hid- 
 den marksmen and himself. He beats up 
 Clay, gets his gun away from him, holds it 
 at his stomach and commands the two men to 
 come forth, or he will kill their leader. They 
 grudgingly do so. 
 
 Scene 13. 
 
 Exterior: Flash, 
 
 Flash of old man and Betsy on porch with 
 rifles in hand.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 107 
 
 Scene 14. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in 4- 
 
 Allen gives Clay a blow, knocks him down 
 and kicks him, and then hands him his gun 
 back, telling him to get out. The two men 
 glare at each other, but Clay's face falls and 
 he looks down. The mountaineers sneak 
 away. 
 
 Scene 15. 
 
 Etrterior: Porch again as before. 
 
 Allen joining the two. Betsy now weep- 
 ing as though her heart was broken. Allen 
 thinks she loves Clay, and he hesitates, then 
 thanks the father and daughter. He sadly 
 goes inside, with Betsy and her father fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 Scene 16. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 5. 
 
 Old man and Allen, smoking before big 
 fireplace. Betsy bids them good night, leav- 
 ing them to talk over plans of timber sale. 
 Betsy comes back and looks at Allen, with- 
 out his knowing it, and unseen by him, slips 
 his fur cap from the hook on the wall, kisses 
 it, and takes it to bed with her. (Fade out.)
 
 108 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 17. 
 Exterior: Moonlight. Old Farm House. 
 Clay and his gangsters drawn up before 
 an old farm house, planning deviltry against 
 the newcomer. 
 
 Scene 18. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 5. 
 
 NEXT MORNING. 
 
 Betsy, tidying up living room, and setting 
 breakfast table. She takes down a photo- 
 graph of Clay, which she looks at and cries 
 over. Allen enters unseen, and looks over 
 her shoulder, sees the picture and turns away 
 believing that she loves Clay. He leaves the 
 room, and then misses seeing her tear up the 
 picture scornfully, as she realizes that the old 
 love was not worth while — and that Clay is a 
 bad man. Allen re-enters the room with the 
 old man, and they start at breakfast. He is 
 very downcast, however, and cannot eat, de- 
 spite the attention of the girl. 
 
 Scene 19. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in i. 
 
 Allen and old man, coming down porch 
 steps and mounting horses, to go out and see
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 109 
 
 the timber. Allen and the girl wave good- 
 bye. 
 
 Scene 20. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' lands. 
 
 Out in the woods, Ezekial showing his 
 possessions. 
 
 Scene 21. 
 
 Exterior: Another woods scene. 
 
 Clay and men following in the woods. 
 
 Scene 22. 
 
 Exterior: Woods scene, 
 
 Allen and Ezekial met by two horsemen, 
 who tell Ezekial some cock-and-bull story, 
 and get them separated. Clay and his men 
 close in on the city fellow as soon as Ezekial 
 is out of the way, and bind him, at the point 
 of guns. 
 
 Scene 23. 
 Exterior: Old farm house as in 17. 
 
 Clay's headquarters. Mountaineers 
 around. They hurriedly roll barrels out of 
 sight, as Clay rides up with prisoners, but 
 Allen notices this. Prisoner taken inside.
 
 110 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 24. 
 
 Interior: Saloon, "blind tiger." 
 
 In the farm house, regular speak-easy, 
 with sanded floor, tables, etc. The men 
 crowd around Clay and his prisoner, who is 
 made to write a letter to old Burrows, de- 
 manding money for his ransom. The pris- 
 oner is roughly treated, cursed and insulted 
 by the mountaineers. He is led upstairs to a 
 little prison on the loft. 
 
 Scene 25. 
 
 Interior: Attic room, rough walls. 
 
 Clay leads in Allen, bound. Leaves him 
 with threat of death, after lashing him 
 across face, leaving welt. 
 
 Scene 26. 
 
 Interior: Saloon as in 4-2. 
 
 The mountaineers getting rougher and 
 rougher. More drink. Clay tells them that 
 their prisoner is a revenue spy, and they 
 want to lynch him. But he tells them to get 
 a rope, and wait until the messenger has 
 taken the demand for money to old Bur- 
 rows.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 111 
 
 Scene 27. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' home as in 4- 
 
 Betsy leaving home, worried about the 
 absence of her father and visitor. 
 
 Scene 28. 
 
 Exterior: Woods scene. 
 
 Betsy meets her father racing back on 
 horseback, and he tells her of the disappear- 
 ance of Allen. She tells him to ride for 
 home, and she will search in a certain place. 
 He wants to accompany her, but she tells 
 him to do as she bids, scorns fear, and in- 
 sists that she has a plan to save Allen. Betsy 
 rides along toward Clay's house. 
 
 Scene 29. 
 
 Interior: Saloon as in 24, 
 
 Clay decides to leave and attend to the 
 ransom matter himself. He exits. 
 
 Scene 30. 
 
 Interior: Attic as in 25. 
 
 Allen is working himself loose from ropes. 
 He succeeds, and hurries to window, where 
 he slips out.
 
 112 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 31. 
 
 Exterior: Roof of house ^ showing slanting 
 
 roof. 
 
 Allen slides down from window and then 
 jumps to tree. Before getting down, he sees 
 Betsy coming. 
 
 Scene 32. 
 
 Exterior: Showing Allen up in tree and 
 farm house. 
 
 A few feet back Allen is seen up in tree. 
 Clay comes out of house, just about to mount 
 his horse. Betsy approaches and intercedes 
 for Allen. Allen thinks it is a rendezvous, 
 instead, and broken-hearted he turns away 
 and under cover of their talking makes his 
 escape. He cuts his horse from the hitching 
 post in the rear, and rides off through the 
 country. Clay, meanwhile, refuses to help 
 the girl unless she marries him. She refuses. 
 He tries to kiss her, and Betsy lashes him 
 severely with her riding wliip, taking his 
 gun from him, and making him apologize 
 on his knees for his insult. She mounts and 
 rides home. Clay goes inside, wiping blood 
 from liis face and swearing vengeance.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 113 
 
 Scene 33. 
 Exterior: Woods scene. 
 Flash. Allen riding through woods. 
 
 Scene 34. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows^ house as in 4. 
 
 Allen dashes up and rushes inside, where 
 the old man is waiting. 
 
 Scene 35. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 6. 
 
 They draw up the papers, Allen delivers 
 the check, obtains the deeds, etc., and then 
 starts away. The old man agrees to take 
 him to the railroad. Allen is very sad, and 
 asks the old man to give him a picture of 
 Betsy, which he does. 
 
 Scene 36. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in i. 
 
 They are starting away with their horses, 
 when Betsy gallops up. She warns them of 
 Clay's pursuit, which she has heard. They 
 hurry into the house to barricade it.
 
 114 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 Scene 37. 
 
 Exterior: Woods scene. 
 
 Clay and gangsters riding rapidly for re- 
 venge and a lynching party. 
 
 Scene 38. 
 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in 4-. 
 
 The gangsters remain on their horses at 
 Clay's command to guard the house. Clay, 
 swearing vengeance, knocks on door and is 
 admitted. 
 
 Scene 39. 
 
 Interior: Burrows' house as in 5. 
 
 Inside, Clay is covered by the weapons of 
 Ezekial, his daughter and Allen. He ac- 
 cuses Allen of stealing his sweetheart, but 
 Betsy, blushing, declares her love for the 
 Chap from Broadway. Clay drops his head 
 and turns to go, but Allen offers his hand. 
 Clay braces up and takes it like a man, say- 
 ing that he will no longer contend, and will 
 order his men away. He wishes the success- 
 ful rival luck. Betsy impetuously offers her 
 hand to him. Clay leaves, dragging his 
 rifle. They all follow him out.
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 115 
 
 Scene 40. 
 Exterior: Burrows' house as in i. 
 Clay comes down steps and bruskly orders 
 his men to go back to headquarters and leave 
 him alone — forbidding them to persecute 
 Burrows and Allen further. Astounded, 
 the men gallop away. Clay stumbles awk- 
 wardly, blinded by tears, as he approaches 
 his own horse, which he takes by the bridle. 
 Ezekial, Betsy and Allen follow and wave 
 good-bye to him, as he dejectedly starts up 
 the rocky trail above, leading his steed, and 
 dragging his gun. 
 
 Scene 41. 
 Exterior: High cliff on the mountain. 
 Clay ascends to the edge of the precipice, 
 leading his horse, and looks over the valley 
 beneath him. He takes off his hat and 
 stands there, silhouetted against the sunlight 
 (orange colored film), and the picture fades 
 out into blackness.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 THE future of the motion picture 
 drama is a mooted question. Theatri- 
 cal producers have tried to cheer them- 
 selves with the thought that each season was 
 the climax of its popularity. 
 
 Instead, each season has seen a broadening 
 of cinematographic effort and the increase 
 of popular interest ; where five years ago the 
 attendance of the moving picture show by 
 well-to-do people was considered a "slum- 
 ming expedition" it has now become a stand- 
 ard amusement at which wives, mothers, sis- 
 ters and daughters of the best classes in 
 America are the most devoted patrons. Mas- 
 culine appreciation has increased in equal 
 ratio. 
 
 Sterling financial interests have directed 
 their activities toward this business during 
 the last year. It is undeniable that a greater 
 share of profits can be made in this branch 
 of the amusement field than in any other, for 
 it is a cash business with quick returns and 
 
 116
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 117 
 
 of the "rolling snowball" nature where one 
 success trails many others in its progress. 
 
 To be extremely candid, until the very re- 
 cent past, the majority of men who have had 
 control of the motion pictures received their 
 dramatic training on the tanbark of the cir- 
 cus, in button factories and similar haunts 
 of the Muses. A few of the powerful mag- 
 nates even to-day are recruits from the ranks 
 of saloon keepers, ward politicians, resort 
 proprietors and still more questionable in- 
 dustries. 
 
 With them have grown up a coterie of un- 
 scrupulous adventurers who have inveigled 
 into their projects the money of other 
 people and who, by stock jobbing and com- 
 mercial legerdemain have outwitted their 
 associates and obtained control of some of 
 the most important companies producing to- 
 day. 
 
 The intimate biographies of the producing 
 managers would out-rival some of the under- 
 world masterpieces which have recently 
 caused so much public comment and police 
 activity ! 
 
 It is for this reason that the higher aspects 
 of the photoplay drama have so frequently 
 been ignored. Water will not rise above its 
 own level and only recently have the powers
 
 118 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 higher up in many of the motion picture 
 cheques yielded to the demand for high 
 moral standards and first-class dramatic pro- 
 duction in their work. 
 
 But the entrance into this field of legiti- 
 mate investors, shrewd and hroad-visioned 
 husiness men, has purified the atmosphere to 
 a great extent. Many producing companies 
 which from their inception were run on hon- 
 est business principles against heavy odds, 
 have been benefited by the recruits. 
 
 The satisfaction with which the general 
 public has received the improved productions 
 proves its commercial value by the iniprece- 
 dented prosperity and the steady increase in 
 demand for more pictures of the better sort. 
 No longer does the wise producer play ex- 
 clusively to the "rough-necks." He finds it 
 better policy to stage his pictures for the 
 educated classes, rather than for the immi- 
 grants, servants and the illiterates who have 
 hitherto been considered the best paying pa- 
 trons. 
 
 The proprietors of the film exchanges 
 throughout the country are clamoring for 
 historical, literarv and the finest of dramatic 
 productions, preferring them to the frazzled 
 themes and hackneyed productions which 
 sufficed in the past. The producing com-
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 119 
 
 panics have at last awakened to an under- 
 standing of the value of "theme" and the 
 advantage to be gained from the employ- 
 ment of first-class actors and actresses. They 
 pay higher salaries to artists than most of 
 the stage producers can afford. 
 
 Directors of photoplays are paid a great 
 deal more money than theatrical managers; 
 with them as with the actors, their year of 
 work contains fifty-two WTcks, while the 
 theatrical year is a record breaker nowadays 
 which runs for thirty weeks. There is no 
 dull season. In summer, when theatres are 
 dark, the moving picture companies are most 
 active : in winter, they carry on their produc- 
 ing (w'here summer scenes are needed) in 
 California and Florida, or travelling into 
 foreign lands. 
 
 The life and work is attractive and steady 
 in its remuneration. It is steadily drawing 
 upon the resources of the theatrical world 
 for its best people. 
 
 The road shows of theatrical successes 
 have received decreasing interest with each 
 succeeding month. Lamentable as this may 
 seem it has its benefits for the American 
 play-goer. Through the medium of the 
 cinematograph one good production, pre- 
 sented by the best obtainable artists, and
 
 120' THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 under the most perfect conditions attainable 
 is seen by sixteen millions in a year, as 
 against one hundred thousand who would 
 see a successful play in the same time. 
 
 This tremendous movement which is ad- 
 mitted by all to be in its "rising" act," will un- 
 doubtedly culminate in greater rewards for 
 the writers of the plays and scenarios to be 
 produced to meet the demand. There is no 
 reason, even to-day, why a playwright should 
 not receive at least $200 for every good 
 scenario which is accepted in view of the fact 
 that not less than a thousand dollars will be 
 expended on its production and the profit 
 vary from one hundred to one thousand per 
 cent. 
 
 A professional man — a doctor, lawyer, 
 dentist, civil engineer — must devote at least 
 three years of study to his profession. After 
 his graduation from the college it is gener- 
 ally necessary for him to fight against dis- 
 couragement for several years before he es- 
 tablishes his practice with a successful 
 remuneration. Therefore, it seems certain 
 that an ambitious writer who will devote 
 time, study and energy to the perfection of 
 his scenario technique for a few months, can 
 attain to a position of remunerative success
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 121! 
 
 far beyond the bounds of other intellectual 
 work. 
 
 Scenario writing, as an art, should be 
 worked out on a scientific basis. The writing 
 of a scenario after the general mastering of 
 principles, should not consume more than 
 one day. An energetic author should pro- 
 duce three or four each week even with the 
 present rates of $25 as a minimum for a 
 good script. He should be able, after two 
 months of "laying in stock" to sell one out 
 of every three photoplays he has created. 
 
 Within the next year or two the field of 
 the photoplay will undoubtedly develop into 
 more educational, political and religious lines 
 than it has in the past. Thus, the writers 
 who are familiar with the general field, with 
 its details and its big ideas at his finger tips, 
 will be in the line for promotion to the new 
 positions opened by such growth in this 
 work. 
 
 It is safe to say that the majority of peo- 
 ple now in the motion picture business are in 
 a rut. Most of the actors are so busy with 
 their work that they neglect opportunities to 
 keep abreast with the trend course of na- 
 tional drama. The directors, many of whom 
 regard the theatre, the progress of literature 
 and art, and political movements as alien to
 
 122 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 their own work. After the hours of then- 
 undeniably strenuous work, they, like the 
 motion picture actors, prefer to spend their 
 time in observing current productions of 
 rival companies in exhibition theatres or to 
 relieve their tense nerves in conviviality. 
 
 Two-thirds of the executive men in the 
 motion picture business to-day are so busily 
 juggling stock transactions, endeavoring to 
 outplay their associates in the game of 
 "dagger-dagger, who's got the dagger?" 
 that their knowledge of artistic theatrical 
 conditions is extremely short-stopped. 
 
 Here then, is the opportunity for the out- 
 side man, for the writer who can study 
 staged as well as screened drama and who 
 can read the good old books and the good 
 new ones, who can interpret the vital 
 thought in his times and inject into his work 
 unprejudiced enthusiasm with a vision of 
 true artistic perspective. INIen may come 
 and men may go, but as IMr. W. S. Gilbert 
 remarked, the terrestrial globe continues 
 rolling on just the same ! The director, actor 
 or manager who believes that he has mas- 
 tered all the secrets of his craft is left behind. 
 
 It is the independent writer, the free lance 
 not compelled to kow-tow to film politicians, 
 who can win for himself a recognition of his
 
 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 123 
 
 genius (which might be called "his inspira- 
 tion plus perspiration") which in the future 
 enables him to participate in these film-poli- 
 tics so strenuously through the power of his 
 pen that he can unite realities with ideals, 
 benefitting motion pictures and his own ex- 
 chequer. 
 
 Photoplay WTiting leads to many avenues 
 of unique endeavor and reward. Success is 
 gained only by the sound foundation of basic 
 knowledge and the determination w hich will 
 ever give encouragement, overcome discour- 
 agement and technical difficulties. 
 
 It is not to be understood that the author 
 decries the value of studying the present out- 
 put of motion pictures assiduously. Far 
 from it! This should be done in the exhibi- 
 tion theatres, motion picture magazines, and 
 if possible by personal observation of studio 
 production work. But the author who has 
 designs upon a profitable future should 
 never forget that future. He should defi- 
 nitely work for it by applying to the com- 
 plete understanding of present conditions, 
 his own inspirations and original thought 
 for future work, treating photoplays as real 
 drama, rather than as pantomimes and 
 "thrillers" not governed by the literary laws 
 developed after centuries of culture.
 
 124 THE ART OF THE PHOTOPLAY 
 
 The daring and original work of to-day- 
 is the success of to-morrow. 
 
 The man who has one eye on the time 
 clock and the other on the cash register, 
 ignoring the calendar of the days and 
 months to come is seldom apt to climb over 
 the walls of to-day's limitations to a bigger 
 and better future! 
 
 THE END.
 
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