itive imaging power by going to the movies and
hearing what the actors say; these with deficient visual imagery should
read novels and see the scenery. But to say that the movies allow no scope
for the imagination is absurd. As I said at the outset, the movie play is
just a play seen through the medium of a moving picture. It is like seeing
a drama near enough to note the slightest play of feature and at the same
time so far away that the actors can not be heard--somewhat like seeing a
distant play through a fine telescope. The action should therefore differ
in no respect from what would be proper if the words were intended to be
heard. Doubtless this imposes a special duty upon both the author of the
scenario and the producer, and they do not always respond to it. Action is
introduced that fails to be intelligible without the words, and to clear
it up the actors are made to use pantomime. Pantomime is an interesting
and valuable form of dramatic art, but it is essentially symbolic and
stagy and has, I believe, no place in the moving picture play as we have
developed it. If owing to the faulty construction of the play, or a lack
of skill on the part of producer or actors, all sorts of gestures and
grimaces become necessary that would not be required if the words were
heard, the production can not be considered good. Sometimes, of course,
words are _seen_; though not heard. The story of the deaf mutes who read
the lips of the movie actors, and detected remarks not at all in
consonance with the action of the play, is doubtless familiar. It crops up
in various places and is as ubiquitous as Washington's Headquarters. It is
good enough to be true, but I have never run it to earth yet. Even those
of us who are not deaf-mutes, however, may detect an exclamation now and
then and it gives great force to the action, though I doubt whether it is
quite legitimate in a purely picture-play.

I beg leave to doubt whether realism is fostered by a method of production
said to be in vogue among first rate producers; namely keeping actors in
ignorance of the play and directing the action as it goes on.

"Come in now, Mr. Smith; sit in that chair; cross your legs; light a
cigar; register perplexity; you hear a sound; jump to your feet"--and so
on. This may save the producer trouble, but it reduces the actors to
marionettes; it is not thus that masterpieces are turned out.

Is there any chance of a movie masterpiece, anyway? Yes, but not i