Betty Compson — Emotion to Order (1921) 🇺🇸
Perhaps one of the greatest difficulties stage stars encounter when performing before a motion picture camera for the first time is the absence of that sympathetic feeling from the audience.
by Betty Compson
On the stage, an actor sub-consciously knows whether or not his audience is “with” him. This feeling is made manifest by the attentiveness, applause, etc. of the spectators, but the motion picture player must need to perform before a hard-boiled audience of carpenters, stagehands, cameramen, continuity clerks and directors.
To offset the disadvantages of a non-receptive “audience” the motion picture studios employ a musician, generally a violinist, to help the players “emote,” and it is surprising how greatly screen acting is enhanced by the melodious accompaniment.
There is more than one way in which music proves its value in the making of motion pictures. In the first place, it can be used as an “off-screen” means of “pepping up” the company when a number of particularly trying scenes have been “shot” and no one is very anxious to start working again.
Contrary to general opinion, the life of a motion picture player is by no means a bed of roses and, after going through the same scene again and again in order to attain perfection, there is nothing like a jazzy tune to bring up one’s spirits. Then again, there are many dreary moments between scenes that are quickly whiled away by the studio troubadours. If we aren’t too tired we usually dance.
George Melford, director of Paramount Pictures, is a strong advocate of jazz. It is not an unusual sight at the Lasky studio to see Mr. Melford, with a number of players in his company, off in one corner lustily singing and playing and thus forgetting the many cares and worries which beset the film workers in spite of care and precaution.
Mr. Melford has an unusual character in “Speed” Hanson, the studio troubadour. “Speed” sings in queer, half-talking way, and writes his own lyrics set to his own compositions. He generally paraphrases some of the happenings of the troupe and his genial musical interludes are a great help on location. “Speed” dresses up occasionally and appears in the picture, but mostly he is off set, plunking away industriously on his guitar. In the Middle Ages he would have been a strolling minstrel, perhaps a Cyrano de Bergerac.
But the commonest sight in any studio today is to see a violinist standing on a set just beyond the range of the camera, playing a tune in temper with the scene. These studio violinists are really excellent musicians and follow the mood of the actor and play appropriate tunes. A soft waltz helps the heroine to be properly tearful, while a jazz piece makes the comedy star more receptive to the custard pie. A person can best realize the importance of appropriate music for players by trying to imagine what the result of a scene would be if a jazz piece were played for a star while she was trying to register intense sorrow at the death-bed of a relative.
Another important point about music in motion pictures is the selection of the real thing in order to create the proper atmosphere for a certain scene. That is, if a scene is to be filmed showing Scotch bagpipers playing, Scotch, real Scotch, bag-pipers are hired for the occasion. The same applies to Hawaiian ukelele and guitar players, Russian Balalaika orchestras, Chinese musicians or colored jazz artists. And it is nothing unusual for a director to insist upon having an Italian play a wheezy old hand-organ just for an added touch of atmosphere for an East Side scene.
It must be remembered that all this attention to detail is justified, for the film actor hasn’t the inspiration of an audience, the lights of a theatre, an orchestra, etc. He has to work to a lot of people who are as blasé as he is perhaps. Also there is that camera clicking away. And the set is but a spot in a big open stage, possibly. And he has to get up and emote or act funny or be shot and die — and be natural and convincing. There is where the music has its helpful quality.
As a matter of fact, the screen actor has a much harder job to be natural than his stage brother. They’ll all tell you that. It is a real test of acting. It isn’t so bad when there’s a big crowd and a big set and everybody excited and up to their ears in work. But when you get some quiet little corner with two or three persons working — then it’s hard. And maybe that scene on the screen will be more poignant than one of the big showy affairs — you never can tell!
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Tom Moore, who works with Will Rogers, has a new saddle horse named Spider which stands seventeen and one-half hands high, can act better, according to its owner, than lots of extra men and “can turn on a quarter, and leave twenty-two cents change.”
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Rupert Hughes is helping direct a new picture of his own writing to be called The Wall Flower. Colleen Moore has the leading role with Tom Gallery. Gertrude Astor, and Fanny Stockbridge are also in the cast.
Collection: Pantomime Magazine, September 1921