A DISTINGUISHED neutral observer, who has just returned from a visit to
Cinemaland, has furnished our representative with the following
interesting account of his experiences and conclusions.
One of the first things (he says) that impressed me was that in the
great cities of Cinemaland there is, outwardly at least, little or no
sign of scarcity. On the contrary, at the various hotels and
restaurants, as well as several private entertainments that came under
my observation, a note of almost wanton luxury appeared to be aimed at.
Evening dress is worn whenever possible, and the costumes of the ladies
are invariably the last word in ultra-fashionable extravagance. Food is
as yet obviously plentiful; what is not consumed being frequently flung
about, especially by the humorous elements of the population, and wasted
with reckless prodigality.
In spite however of this ostentation signs are not wanting that the true
condition of the country is increasingly precarious. Crime of all sorts
is rampant. Judging even by what I myself witnessed within a short
period, the detectives of Cinemaland must all be working overtime. Quite
recently a gang, under the leadership of a ruffian who elected to be
known as The Clutching Hand, made large sums of money by working upon
the terrors of its victims.
Another significant symptom is that respect for law and authority as
such appears to be almost non-existent. The police force of Cinemaland
is a body of men who are most of them of conspicuously full habit. I can
vouch for it that the appearance of these officials is almost invariably
greeted with derision; and should they (as frequently happens) incur
physical maltreatment or other misfortune in the exercise of their
duties popular sympathy is almost always on the side of their opponents.
A notable exception to this feeling is found in the attitude of the
populace towards their chosen ruler, the Emperor, or Film-Lord,
Charlemagne-Chaplin. It is only fair to record that recent spectacular
(and carefully stage-managed) appearances of the monarch have been
greeted with every demonstration of unswerving loyalty and affection.
More significant perhaps to an outside spectator is the undeniable fact
that the Wild Western portions of Cinemaland are to-day in a state of
turbulence bordering upon anarchy. The Cowboys, who are its chief
denizens, would seem, so far as my experience goes, to spend their
entire time in exploits of murderous violence; though here (as elsewhere
among this remarkable people) the influence of sentiment is often
unexpectedly potent. It can hardly be doubted that a populace so
emotional and ill-balanced as that of Cinemaland will have little power
to withstand the strain of disaster.
Despite my apparent freedom from restraint I am persuaded that I was
kept under the observation of a number of uniformed officials during the
whole course of my stay in Cinemaland; and I am bound to confess that my
departure, which was made under cover of darkness, was not unattended
with a sense of personal relief.
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