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By Paul Harrison
HOLLYWOOD.
IN case you haven't noticed, movie
shorts are no longer the stepchil
dren of the show world.
Some of the orve- and two-reel
ers are receiving billing, in lights, on
the marquees of theaters. Some have
been accorded more space than feature
pictures in newspaper reviews. Many
a well-known player, most notably
Robert Taylor, has been brought to at
tention by the celluloid brevities.
And shorts have developed stars o.
their own. Look at Robert Benchley
struggling along for years in compara
tive anonymity as magazine editor, col
umnist and drama critic. Probably nc
more than 20.000,000 people knew about
Mr. Benchley until he began delivering
silly little discourses for the sound cam
eras on the love-life of the polyp, and
how to sleep, and how to be a detec
tive. Today he is known to almost
everybody, everywhere in the world.
Then there’s Peter Gridley Smith,
called Pete for shorts. Mr Smith is no
actor, and only his hands, feet and the
back of his neck ever have been seen on
any screen. Yet he is one of Holly
wood’s most widely known celebrities,
and he receives more fan mail than the
average dramatic star. More, indeed,
than Mr Benchley.
Carey Wilson, for another example,
is a distinguished scenarist with a rec
ord of top-notch screen plays ranging
in time, from “Ben Hur” to “Mutiny on
the Bounty.” Yet the shorts which Mr
Wilson now is making have earned him
vastly more public attention than all
• his strivings in the field of flicker dra
maturgy.
And so on and on through the dozens
of players and producers who have
something to do with the 500 or more
short subjects which are produced an
nually. The list ends with that grand
est of all mimes, Mickey Mouse, and
his mentor. Walt Disney. The shorts
have their stars.
About three years ago the single and
two-reel pictures seemed well on their
way to extinction.
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Yes, sir, it’s Robert Taylor, performing in a “Crime Does Not Pay” short,
which led to fame and fortune.
IVEWSREELS and animated cartoons
1 ' were doing all right, of course, but
comedies and novelties were tottering.
Mack Sennett already had gone out of
business; RKO had suspended its brev
ities; and Educational had cut down its
program to a fraction. The business
had been literally smothered in custard
pies.
About four years ago this correspond
ent happened to ask a movie-maker
why short subjects were so uniformly
bad. He answered frankly, “Because
whenever anybody gets a good idea for
a short it is expanded into a feature
Why, the first all-talking picture ever
made, ‘The Lights of New York,’ start
ed as a short and grew into a full
length film. I hate to think how many
others have, too.”
But the attitude of studios—most
studios, anyway—has changed. Shorts
have assumed importance for two rea
sons: they’re the best natural enemy of
the double-feature program that any
body has discovered to date. And they
also serve as an excellent proving
ground for screen talent that is headed
for big time.
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Virginia Grey graduated
from short films to impor
tant roles in full-length
features.
Pete Smith, producer and
commentator for some of
Hollywood’s best shorts,
ponders his lines while a
fair assistant makes up a
canine actor.
A Mr. Jack Chertok, head of the
shorts department at Metro-Goldwyn-
Mayer, where about 80 screen brevities
are made each season, said that at his
studio these reels are considered impor
tant as show windows for new talent.
“One picture is worth a thousand
tests. Take this comedian, Jerry Ber
gen, who incidentally used to be in a
vaudeville act with Martha Raye. He
has just finished a short here, and
chances are he'll be built up for fea
ture roles or stardom. He may be worth
a million dollars to the studio.
“George Murphy is one of my gradu
ates. Virginia Grey played opposite
him in short subjects, and now Murphy
has the lead in ‘Top of the Town’ at
Universal, and Miss Grey is to make a
picture with Richard Arlen at RKO ”
Not bad, indeed. There was poor,
discouraged Robert Taylor, kicking
around and taking a test now and then,
and wondering whether he ought to go
back to Nebraska. Executives weren’t
sure either. But they put in some of
the “Crime Does Not Pay” two-reelers
and the theater customers made the de
cision.
W/HEN Irene Hervey finished her part
” in a short called “A Thrill for Thel
ma,” she didn't know that executives
had been watching rushes on the film.
Three hours later she was assigned the
leading feminine role with Chester
Morris in “Three Godfathers.” She
now is under contract to Columbia.
Edward Norris and Harvey Stephens
won feature roles in major productions
from their work in the “Crime Does
Not Pay” dramaettes, each of which
tells a complete detective story. Judy
Garland and Deanna Durbin both came
to attention in a miniature musical
called “Every Sunday.” They didn’t
come to the attention of M-G-M,
though. Miss Garland was a hit in
Twentieth Century-Fox’s “Pigskin Pa
rade,” and Miss Durbin is being starred
by Universal when she isn't perform
ing on the radio.
Charles Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, Wal
lace Beery, Gloria Swanson and plenty
of other elder stars started in one
reelers. So did Patsy Kelly and Joan
Blondell. Bing Crosby’s first screen
work was in some shorts for Mack Sen
nett. Jean Harlow appeared in shorts
—short pictures, that is.
Miss Harlow's early career also seems
to have been the inspiration for a se
ries of behind-the-scenes-in-Holly
wood pictures which now are being
filmed by Carey Wilson. They re about
an ambitious extra who has every im
aginable break of hard luck, but who
finally becomes a star.
In the first episode she is shown stud
ying hard, trying desperately for a
chance. Then she gets what seems to
be a big opportunity. She is rushed
before the camera, and is all ready to
turn on her charm and histrionics when
she finds that all they want is a shot of
her legs. That actually happened to
Miss Harlow.
The series continues —a successful
extra, then a bit player whose acting is
left on the cutting-room floor. Next to
featured roles and stardom. For the <
leading part in this series of shorts they
actually chose a typical extra girl, one
Jane Barnes. And they say she may
reasonably aspire to the same progress
she is enacting on the set.
When drama is present in a tabloid
movie it’s the celluloid equivalent of
the magazine short-short story. In
fact, there’s a plan to buy short-shorts
for Pete Smith’s filming.
Smith didn’t pioneer the novelty
short, but he made it what it is today.
The pictures which he produces and in
which he acts as commentator are
shown all over the world and have a
profitable life of at least two years ■»
longer than the average feature.
He isn’t much to look at, but that s
only one reason why you don’t see him
on the screen. The other reason is that
he can’t learn lines and never could
learn lines.