Chapter X

_Atmosphere and studio morale--Where best work is_
_done--Importance of story--Value of_
_“Observation Tours.”_

The beginner has learned that he or she must at all times stand solidly before the camera upon his or her own feet. I mean this in a metaphorical sense. So much depends upon courage and self-reliance.

If it is well not to let the style of supporting artists affect one, it is equally well to steel one’s self against the conditions under which one must sometimes work.

The motion picture, after all, is a commercial proposition. It is very much so to the producer. For that reason the beginner will find that different studios create and maintain their own atmosphere. Here one will discover a wide range. But since we may consider ourselves called upon to work now in New York, again in California, and sometimes in Florida, passing from studio to studio, we shall win a big battle if at the outset we will determine to let conditions and studio atmosphere affect us as little as possible.

It is here, again, a case of taking advantage of conditions if they are good, and trying to ignore them if they are distasteful.

I know from experience that this will be a hard thing to do. If the actress finds, in the very air of which she breathes, unpleasantness and intrigue, she will be normally inclined to resent it hotly. Yet such resentment only takes away from her acting, for it diverts her mind, and she will be the greater loser as between herself and her producer.

I have worked under such profound systems as considered studio spies and time charts upon make up, etc., as necessary to production. I will leave it to the reader to decide how much morale one will find in this sort of studio.

Fortunately such a studio and such a morale are the exception. But, if encountered in the many vicissitudes that an actress will face, it will be well to make the best of it; to steel one’s nervous system against odds. Self-reliance in such a case is no less than golden.

But in the majority of studios the manufacture of motion pictures is not put upon the same level as the making of gloves or brooms, and the beginner will find a kindly and friendly atmosphere both charming and helpful.

In those studios that glow with a warm, friendly atmosphere there is always a good-natured rivalry and spirit of fellowship which is certain to reflect itself in the finished picture. For that reason it is a genuine asset. Here hours are buoyant minutes and the actors and directors find their reward in the excellence of their endeavor, as well as somewhere in Heaven.

Another point that the beginner must remember is that it is much harder to make good in pictures now than it was when I started. That, of course, is because of the greater competition.

Where ten years ago there was one boy or girl ambitious for a screen career there are now a thousand. I often think that the screen has been very kind to those who had faith in it in its babyhood. It has brought to so many of these fame and fortune.

And sometimes, when I observe some fairly competent actress or actor thwarted in an attempt to reach stardom, I wonder if the screen, after its own fashion, is not asserting itself for this lack of faith in those early days.

At any rate those who got in first secured a big advantage over those who wondered if a multiple-reel picture could be a success and doubted it for, as some said, “It would be too great a strain upon the eye.”

But if there are more aspirants now there are assuredly more opportunities and my candidate need have no fear. Sooner or later merit may be counted upon to assert itself. All about us in motion pictures we every day perceive the truth of this.

It is also true that the screen is in a state of constant change. The methods of acting change; the methods of direction; the methods of presentation; the methods of story selection--all is continually in flux.

No one knows what another five years will bring. But we do know that some of our prized pictures of five or more years ago would be instantly pointed out as old-fashioned by the average theater-goer. That is because there is no fundamental point about them that has not been somehow affected by time.

Yet no pictures I ever will make will be dearer to me than my “The Sands of Dee,” “Apple Pie Mary,” “The Little Liar,” “The Escape,” “Hoodoo Ann,” “The Wharf Rat,” etc.

This constant evolution is a matter to be reckoned with. To stand still is to be lost. We must always be pushing ahead. For that reason the beginner and the star will find it greatly to their advantage to follow everything that is done on the screen.

In unexpected places we discover new development. Some unheard-of player in a boisterous two-reel comedy may disclose some little trick, or expression, or bit of business, that can be easily interpolated in the more serious drama with good effect. And so on.

We must read widely. Try as they may, we can be mortally certain that no scenario editors can always supply the vehicle which we feel is suitable for us to play. There will come a time when the actress will be thrown upon her own resources, either in the matter of rejection or selection of a story. She must be able to put her finger on what she considers a vital defect in some narrative that appeals to the editor, or discover for him good points in some other story against which he is prejudiced.

In any event it will be extremely hazardous not to participate as much as possible in the business of deciding upon the play.

Nothing is so vital as a good story. Even when poorly acted it will be of greater appeal than a well played scenario of no merit. Motion picture actresses prosper almost in exact ratio to the inherent worth of their scenarios.

At first this story matter will not greatly concern the tyro. But as the beginner finds himself or herself slowly crawling up the ladder to stardom he or she will do well to think often upon the type of story to be preferred if given a chance to star.

By this process the beginner will be visualizing himself in a role. Of a certain his most pleasant visualization will be the role in which he feels that he would be at his best. In such a way, when the chance comes, the star may know exactly the story he or she will fit perfectly.

Once the story is decided upon there are many ways to bring to it genuine color. In several of my early plays Mr. Griffith sent me down into the New York slums on an “observation tour.” We all made such tours. In “Intolerance” I visited sick and stricken mothers in baby hospitals. We spent a half-day once in a jail observing the characters therein.

It is always important in acting to show a thing as it is, not as we think it ought to be, and for that reason these “observation tours” are of great benefit.