H. O. Davis — “Stars or No Stars” — That Is the Question (1918) 🇺🇸
“Efficiency is not saving money; it is making good pictures in which every dollar expended is reflected on the screen.”
During the last two years the name of H. O. Davis has become almost synonymous with motion picture efficiency. Early in his film career he was alternately hailed as a genius and a joke. He has always disclaimed the former distinction; the latter has been definitely disproved. The opening paragraph is Mr. Davis’ definition of efficiency as applied to the making of photoplays. It has a place in motion picture annals because of the previously mentioned fact that “H. O.” is a part of every argument on studio or production efficiency.
Something over two years ago, the writer, under a nom de plume, told in this magazine something of the tremendous sums of money wasted in the making of moving pictures. The title was ‘‘Waste” and in the article mention was made of the cry for efficiency and the conflict between “art” and business methods. Since that time the entire manufacture of motion pictures has been revolutionized and perhaps to Harry O. Davis belongs much of the credit.
They laughed at him when he first went to Universal City with no cinema experience other than that gained by a survey of the Universal producing plant for President Carl Laemmle. Other producing executives joined in the laughter. They said it couldn’t be done — combining art and efficiency. Mr. Davis said it could be done and pretty soon a lot of stars collided with his theory — now become actual condition — and found themselves summarily without employment. He does not believe in temporizing.
But all that is extraneous matter. What the writer started out to relate in this particular part of this story was that during the last two years practically every producing concern in the country has gone on an efficiency basis. Even in the ateliers where the meringue farceurs work at their art, they keep tally on the pies that are hurled. Art and efficiency have been effectively welded with no apparent injury to either.
The joke, however, is on some of the rival producers who were among the first laughers. They have gone “Efficiency” Davis one, or more, better and walloped art all over the lot with the punch clock. In one studio, even the directors and actors are compelled to punch the clock when they come to work in the morning and when they leave for the day.
As showing the advance of the business system theory, when Mr. Davis went to Triangle several months ago as vice president and general manager of that concern, he mitigated some of the more stringent regulations which had been prescribed by the former boss of the great Culver City studio. One of these rules provided that all members of the stock company had to remain on the grounds until 4:30 p. m. whether actually employed or not. Now, they go home when there’s nothing for them to do.
“True efficiency,” adds Mr. Davis, “is making good pictures, and this cannot be done unless there is a spirit of loyalty among those in the studio. This spirit is impossible where oppressive rules are laid down for their conduct on the mistaken theory that because persons are being paid, they must remain at their place of employment whether actually engaged or not. Our writers and actors do not punch a clock; only those are required to do so who are employed by the hour, such as carpenters and painters. Many a writer or player can do a fine day’s work in fifteen minutes.”
But the public in general is not tremendously interested in film production machinery. It is interested in good film plays and in efficiency as it affects the quality of the product. This really started out to be a personal story about Harry O. Davis, one of the outstanding personalities of the motion picture industry, but it is next to impossible to write of Mr. Davis without getting into some of the more or less controversial issues and problems of this kaleidoscopic industry.
It was Mr. Davis who first attacked the star system. He is firmly of the opinion that starlight is largely moonshine, so to say, and is endeavoring to prove it by actual experience. As a matter of fact, he insists that he has already proven it in the making of Bluebird photoplays for Universal when he first applied the Shakespearean slogan: “The play’s the thing,” to the film industry. He cites the fact that Bluebird photoplays, in which the leading players are “featured,” not “starred,” have been among the most consistent financial successes of the industry since he created that brand of film stories a year and a half ago.
So just now, through the powerful medium of Triangle, the manufacturing concern founded by the three then leaders of the industry, Griffith, Sennett and Ince [D. W. Griffith | Mack Sennett | Thomas H. Ince], this crusader of the celluloid is continuing the battle against the star system, with its tremendous salaries, in the belief that the public eventually will line up solidly for ‘the story, not the star.”
But let us allow Mr. Davis to state to the jury his case against the star system:
“Our policy is based upon the well founded belief that the general public favors a good, interesting story that is starless, in preference to a star that is storyless. So we are trying to produce plays, according to our conception of the prime requisites for a good photoplay. These, in my belief, are: First, an interesting, properly constructed story; second, a well balanced cast, each player selected for an ability to portray the character to which he is assigned; third, proper staging; fourth, good direction. Neglect of any one essential and a good play is impossible. Then let us take the subdivisions beginning with the first requisite, an adequate story:
“The word ‘story’ is used liberally. We say now that the story is good if the action is interesting and holds attention, provides suspense and creates emotion. Analyzed in a cold-blooded manner, this is not literally true. The best laid plot in the world, with interesting action and good situations becomes commonplace unless it deals with interesting persons. There is no story, or type of story, that has a universal appeal. Our tastes differ vastly. A photoplay which we of the studio have voted a good one may bring in a flood of sarcastic comment from public and exhibitor after its release. So we must vary our product, but there is one rule which must be adhered to — that no matter what other qualities a story may possess, it must provide a vehicle for interesting characterization. Interesting people have a universal appeal but few writers seem to appreciate that fact.
“The majority of writers submit stories of love, action, thrills, punch, humor; piling one incident atop another without any regard for consistency, or real humaness. And the average star play is generally written in this manner. All characters other than the star, are merely incidental and subordinated to the star role. Unnatural situations are developed so that the spotlight may be kept on the leading player and many times, a good play or story, is ruined by allowing the star to dominate every situation.
“Under the star policy there can be no well balanced cast, another reason for our opposition to that policy. I believe that it is just as important to have a talented actress play the part of a maid as it is to have a capable player in a leading role. And if the maid’s character in the story is such that her actions have an important bearing on the development of the action, I believe in giving her part its natural course without considering whether she is ‘taking anything away’ from the lead.
“Often it happens that there are characters in a play who appear in only a few dozen scenes out of a total of approximately 300 in a five-reel play. If one of our prominent players is best fitted to portray that role, he or she is cast for it. No part will be rewritten to the detriment of the story, merely to give greater prominence to the player. A good actor can make a ‘bit’ stand out as the predominant feature of a photoplay in which he is only on the screen long enough to be noticed.
“So it is our effort to build up an organization of talented players, any of whom, backed by modern advertising methods under a different system, might be a potential star. But we are making good see-able film plays, rather than individual notables. Above all, the characters of a film drama must be firmly established as human beings. Otherwise it will be merely a motion picture.
“Everyone realizes the necessity of proper staging in which attention to detail is of first importance. The settings for the various scenes are only important in that they enable the spectators to see the action in the proper atmosphere, but a single mistake in some slight detail may easily and effectively ruin an otherwise excellent production.
“In placing direction last on the list of requisites, I am incurring the risk of much adverse criticism. There has never been a time in the history of the industry when the director has been paid so lavishly as now. There are cases in which the director draws more salary than the aggregate of the entire cast working under his direction. Where everything is left to the director, as is the practice of some of the producing companies, even the preparation of the story, the casting and the proper investiture of the scenes, the salary does not seem so inflated; but in the final sifting down, the director will only be called upon, as under our system, only to execute the plans laid down for the production. Of course, a poor director can easily wreck a well cast, well staged photoplay.”
Mr. Davis’ withdrawal from the Universal Film Company early last summer was one of the sensations of celluloid circles and, according to his version of the affair, it was due to the insistence of the company controllers to return to the star system after he had proven the “play’s the thing” to be sound financial doctrine.
At any rate he stepped right into the control of Triangle with its great producing plant covering twenty-six acres of buildings, and an annual payroll of $3,000,000. Since then he has attained even more prominence by his war on contract-breaking players and his overturning of an occasional pet theory or fetish of filmdom. He is the recognized chief protagonist of the anti-star faction of the producing world and as such the chief opponent of the recognized master of the star-controllers, Adolf Zukor [Adolph Zukor]. It is going to be a nice gentlemanly little war, this fight against a system which has developed salaries undreamed of in any profession a few years ago; with the public, the ultimate consumer, in the usual role of jury. Whatever its outcome, H. O. Davis has already put the permanent stamp of a militant, thoughtful personality on an industry that will always occupy a dominant place in the public attention.
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“True efficiency,” says H. O. Davis, “is making good pictures.”
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None with Limousines need Apply
Next time Director Tom Terriss of Vitagraph wants an extra girl, he will engage one that needs the money. When he was making “A Woman Between Friends” he fell into the fatal error of employing for an unimportant, but necessary “bit,” a young woman who came seeking admission to the movies in a limousine. She was handsome and Tom fell. Incidentally, he convinced her that extra girls owning limousines were required to take the director to his home after the day’s work was done. This young woman’s ignorance of conditions was divulged by one of her first questions.
“Does Miss Joyce [Alice Joyce] get paid, or does she do it for fun?”
All went well for several days, and Terriss was congratulating himself upon having such a de luxe addition to his company, until a rainy Saturday arrived, but the extra girl did not.
They waited an hour, then Terriss telephoned to her home.
‘Why. I couldn’t possibly come today,” she told him. “It’s raining.”
“You can come in your car.”
“Oh, I don’t want to get it all wet and muddy. I’ve just had it cleaned,” the extra girl replied.
“But you can’t do that,” Terriss pleaded. “We must finish the picture today.”
“Well, anyhow, I can’t come just now. I’m having breakfast.” (It was 10:30).
After more expostulation she finally agreed to sacrifice herself and her car, upon Terriss’ guarantee that she would get to New York by 1 o’clock, as she had a luncheon engagement at the Ritz.
Collection: Photoplay Magazine, January 1918