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Case
8: The Movies and I
It
was a curious experiment to look back over the years and trace the role
that the movies have played in my life. I was in fact quite startled
to find that I remember scarcely more than the titles of a small number
of movies, had forgotten the plot of most of them, and the actors were
but a dim recollection with a haze existing between their faces and
names. However, I suppose the motion pictures have exerted a stronger
influence over me than I realize, and as I recollect for a longer time,
I do become aware that I have cultivated many little mannerisms manifested
by different actors, thought many thoughts, dreamed many dreams, and
read many books as a result of patronizing the motion picture theater.
Having
lived for a number of years on a ranch fifty miles from the nearest
town, it was quite an event to attend a movie when I was a child. The
first one I ever saw was one in which Tom Mix played. The entire community
attended that show, for Tom Mix was a product of the cattle country
in which the town lies. Of course, he played only a minor part, but
the idea that I knew some one in the movies was enough to assure me
that some day, too, I would be an actress. I was stage crazy before
I knew the least bit about it. And upon our return to the ranch I reenacted
for days the part of the heroine in the story and every stray cowpuncher
that happened along I assigned a role to, the ones I liked best being
given parts in the posse under the command of the beautiful virtuous
heroine, myself! Indeed I shall never forget how I was completely lost
in the assumption of the part and how temperamentally crestfallen I
was when I was heartlessly told to "Be yourself."
My
first movie thrill was succeeded by many pictures of the same type -
all of which were so ordinary, so far - fetched, and so similar that
I remember no names. The result of these pictures was the inspiration
for my brother and me to attempt fancy riding, as for example, sweeping
the ground with our hats, turning in our saddles, crawling under the
horse's belly; attempts which, I must confess, resulted more frequently
in injury than in success. Another action upon which we focused our
attention for several weeks was the rolling of a cigarette with one
hand; also the old gambling trick, the thumb shuffle. Yes, the "wild
west" shows surely did influence me. Even while realizing their absurdity
and their unlikeness to real western life, I enjoyed them to the utmost
and they at least served to fill my thoughts and provide ideas for execution
between our infrequent trips to town.
Ten
my first "wild west" epoch came to an abrupt close by the moving of
my family to a large town where there were "more and better" movies.
Among my first ones there were "Tom Sawyer" [I917] and "Little Lord
Fauntleroy" [1921]. After having witnessed "Tom Sawyer" I was quite
humiliated that I had ever imitated any of the heroines of western pictures.
How unlady - like and boisterous I had been! My utmost desire was now
to become the sweet, pretty dainty type of girl (I can't recall her
name) that "Tom" so enthusiastically endorsed. So for a short time I
gave up all active life; even went so far as to play with a doll for
one day, the only time in my life - so you can see how greatly I was
affected.
"Little
Lord Fauntleroy" acquainted me for the first time, as far as I can ascertain,
with Mary Pickford. I was quite impressed by the fact that in this picture
she played two roles, that of the Little Lord, and that of his mother.
I was perhaps more interested in the technique of such filming than
in the story. Nor was I particularly impressed with the actions of the
characters, but believe me, I vowed with great fervor to be as sweet
to my mother as the Little Lord was to his! For who could tell, maybe
I, too, would be taken from my mother some day, and I didn't wish to
have done anything which I would regret the rest of my life. And so,
again for several days I was a pattern little girl, insofar as my actions
were associated with my mother. The reason I remember how good I was
is because I was allowed to go to another show, a reward for my Ai behavior
- a movie which broke the spell!
This
was the initiation of a new type of picture in my career, the Saturday
afternoon two cent serial. I think that at this time I was in the sixth
grade, at the age where one has "beaux" and scribbles two names on every
billboard and draws a heart around them, and thinks one's self madly
in love. You know the age, Mr. Blumer. This serial was [the] most gruesome,
exciting, and sensational tale of men and women who had been lost in
the deep African jungle. At every turn they were mocked by the monkeys,
terrified by the lions, and imperiled by electric storms. Naturally
the protection of the women by the men was superb and the love scenes
following some particularly valiant deed were - well, simply fascinating
and very illuminating to one not yet educated in the art of love - making.
So, as Saturday after Saturday, my "Heart - Mate" and I secretly met
at the show, we absorbed much of the sentimentality expressed on the
screen. No, never can I forget the thrill I experienced when the lad
put his arms around me as we watched a similar scene on the white sheet.
It really disgusts me now as I recall how my heart throbbed at some
such scene; and I am ashamed of the way I practiced so religiously before
the mirror in the hope of attaining attractive facial expressions and
movements. But eventually the serial ended and so did some of my foolishness.
The
next era of pictures I remember well was that of Jackie Coogan and Baby
Peggy. I do not remember the names of any of the pictures they played
in but it seems to me most of them were concerned with the life of some
poor little tot, whose parents were dead, and who, in the due course
of time was adopted by some rich person and "lived happily ever after."
Of these pictures I was particularly fond and I realize now that I developed
an attitude of sincere [sympathy] toward those less fortunate than myself.
It was impossible for one not to notice some little waif and long to
do something for him after seeing Jackie Coogan in his characteristic
garb and role. Oh, I did love those pictures! I wish that Jackie were
still on the screen that again I might laugh and cry with him.
Chronologically
these plays were succeeded by those in which Harold Lloyd, Syd Chaplin,
and Charlie Chaplin were the ring - leaders. Before them, however, had
come Fatty Arbuckle in whom I could never see anything funny, but, instead,
a repulsive piece of humanity. Charlie Chaplin I always enjoyed seeing.
This was perhaps due to the fact that I knew him quite well personally.
Harold Lloyd in "Grandma's Boy" [1922] and Syd Chaplin in "Charlie's
Aunt" [1925] I liked immensely. Many times I made mental note of the
captions such as "She's the aunt from Brazii where the nuts come from"
in order that I might appear original and witty at some future date.
In the vicinity of my home it was the vogue to copy the various dance
steps seen on the screen, also many little flourishes; for example we
all accepted the hand shake exhibited by Harold Lloyd in "The Freshman"
[1925].
But
as I grew older and saw more movies I was not so profoundly impressed
by them, and considered them more as an amusement for only a few hours.
For a time my taste centered on pictures such as Mary Pickford in "Dorothy
Vernon of Haddon Hall" [r9z4], Douglas Fair banks in "Robin Hood" [1922],
and various ones based on the "Graustark" books. These were all the
same general type of production, the phase of which I was most interested
being the historical background, costumes, etc.
Intermingled
with these pictures were those in which Gloria Swanson, Pola Negri,
and the Talmadges starred. Whenever I witnessed one of their plays I
was with them body and soul. Gloria Swanson may be termed a clothes
horse, but one of the things most alluring about her to me was the striking
clothes she could wear so admirably. Even now I have images of some
of her dresses and frequently when shopping I select my clothes along
the lines of those dresses. Pola Negri fascinated me by her strong,
individual, dark type of beauty. After seeing her, I would go home and
persistently attempt to assemble my hair in the strange and attractive
way that had become Pola so well. For several months the height of my
ambition was to dress like Gloria Swanson and look like Pola Negri!
During
the last three or four years the "Collegiate" type of picture has been
created and gained great favor. Alternating with this type have been
those of the Pioneer Days, War Pictures, the gruesome ones enacted by
Lon Chaney, and the Historical Dramas exemplified by "Ben Hur" [1926].
Each of these has exerted an influence over me, as they have served
as a stimulant for thought.
After
having seen the "Covered Wagon" [1923] and "The Vanishing American"
[1925] I realized more than ever before our great indebtedness to the
pioneers; a sympathetic attitude was aroused in me toward the Indian
by these productions, also. The War Pictures have forced me to feel
more strongly than ever the utter futility and overwhelming horribleness
resultant from war; while pictures of the early Christian period such
as "Ben Hur" revived much of history for me and at the same time gloriously
depicted the true meaning of Christianity, enough food for thought to
last me forever!
Just
as these pictures have influenced my thoughts, they have influenced
my dreams, if I may be permitted to draw a distinction between the two.
The collegiate movies played an important part in my dreams. From them
I gained an enthusiasm to come to college, to enter into all i the "pranks"
and social life. I longed to come, and I dreamed of being one of the
most collegiate, the girl to be the football captain's friend. Just
as I have feasted on the thoughts of school I have dwelled hardily in
the days of the settling of the west. Many times I have crossed the
desolate desert wastes, encountering the Indians, loved some hero of
the trail. After having seen a movie of pioneer days I am very unreconciled
to the fact that I live today instead of the romantic days of fifty
years ago. But to offset this poignant and useless longing I have dreamed
of going to war. I stated previously that through the movies I have
become aware of the awfulness, the futility, etc., of it; but as this
side has been impressed upon me, there has been awakened in me, at the
same time, die desire to go to the "front" during the next war. The
excitement, shall I say glamour of the war has always appealed to me
from the screen. Often I have pictured myself as a truck driver, nurse,
HEROINE! is I .honestly feel that when the next war comes nothing can
prevent me from going, and indeed I shall blame such an action on the
movies.
The
pictures of Lon Chancy have caused me more misery than any pictures
I have ever seen. For days after I have seen him I am nervous, and carry
about with me the gruesome images of Mr. Chaney.
In
my first paragraph I said that I had thought many thoughts, dreamed
many dreams, and had read many books becausc.of screen productions.
I have disposed briefly of how my actions, thoughts, and dreams were
the results of the movies, and my last point is to show how my literary
taste has been molded to some extent by them.
As
a child I was not particularly interested in books, but after seeing
"Little Lord Fauntleroy" I wished to read the book, which I did. From
that time on I have read most of the books that have been produced on
the screen. Therefore, I am quite indebted to the movies for the reading
of many interesting and worthwhile books, as well as many popular novels
typified by those of Zane Grey. I have the motion pictures to thank
for the reading of "Ben Hur," "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," "Beau Geste,"
"By the Order of the King," "The Resurrection" and many more.
I
do not feel that the movies have caused me to slip a "moral cog" at
any time. Perhaps this is because I have seen a rather high class of
picture. The desperate love pictures I have seen have tended rather
to disgust me or amuse me rather than arouse within me a desire to experience
the same emotions. Some of the movies today are very beneficial, others
merely amusing, and others very degrading; it depends entirely upon
the class of picture one is in the habit of attending what the outcome
will be.
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