SCREEN ACTING
COPYRIGHT, 1921
PHOTO-STAR PUBLISHING CO.
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
[Illustration: _The Author and Daughter Mary_]
SCREEN ACTING
BY
MAE MARSH
OF
“THE BIRTH OF A NATION,” “INTOLERANCE,” “POLLY OF THE
CIRCUS,” “THE CINDERELLA MAN,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
PHOTO-STAR PUBLISHING CO.
CHAMBER OF COMMERCE BUILDING
_All Rights Reserved_
FOREWORD
In her travels and through her amazing--to put it
mildly--correspondence, the motion picture star finds that there is
everywhere a great curiosity about screen acting.
What does it require? What, if any, are its mysteries? What system of
detail is there that permits fifty-two hundred feet of celluloid ribbon
to spin smoothly past the eye to make an interesting story?
I look upon this book as an answer to the thousands of letters I
have received in the past several years asking as many thousands of
questions. A motion picture star’s most intimate audience, after all,
is her correspondence.
There comes to her sometimes the vague realization that in a dozen
different countries little children, their sisters, their brothers and
their parents may be, at one moment, viewing her image upon the screen
in a dozen different plays. It is all too stupendous; too impersonal.
But though she cannot be a breathing part of these audiences she learns
often what is in the hearts of many. This message comes through the
mails; that is her broad point of contact with her international public.
Five years ago these letters were largely to request photographs and
the star could tell something of her popularity by the number of
pictures mailed out. But, as the screen has grown in importance and
merit, the star’s correspondence has indicated a lively curiosity in
the art of camera-acting. So much ambition; so many questions!
I have often thought that to make a satisfactory reply to the thousands
of questions I have been asked would be to write a book, and--well, I
wrote it. I have tried to outline the important steps in the building
of a screen career. In doing this I have evaded technical phraseology.
It is not indispensable to a knowledge of screen technic and might tend
to confuse.
I believe that anyone desiring a career in motion pictures can profit
by that which I have written out of my experience; that others can
learn from it something of the work-a-day life of the screen actress.
In conclusion I would take this opportunity to thank the tremendous
number of children and grown-ups who have at one time or another
written me. They serve always to remind me that those of us upon the
screen have an influence and responsibility that go beyond a mere
make-believe.
MAE MARSH.
Contents
Chapter Page
I. The Universal Impulse 15
II. Stars and Meteors 23
III. Seven Qualities 33
IV. Beauty and Expression 43
V. Story, Make-up, Costuming 51
VI. Noses, Chins and Eyes 61
VII. Camera-Consciousness and Such 73
VIII. Emphasis and Repression 81
IX. Long Shots, Intermediates and Close-ups 91
X. About Atmosphere 101
XI. Mr. Griffith 109
XII. Home Life of the Star 121
Illustrations
Page
The Author and Mary Frontispiece
Lillian Gish and the late Robert Harron 27
Charles Ray 37
Mary Miles Minter 47
Mary Pickford 55
Madame Nazimova 65
Blanche Sweet and Wallace Reid 77
Norma Talmadge 85
The Author and Some Beginners 95
Gloria Swanson and Thomas Meighan 105
Mr. Griffith 113
The Author at Home 125
MAE MARSH, MOTION PICTURE ACTRESS
_I_
_The arts are old, old as the stones_
_From which man carved the sphinx austere._
_Deep are the days the old arts bring:_
_Ten thousand years of yesteryear._
_II_
_She is madonna in an art_
_As wild and young as her sweet eyes:_
_A frail dew flower from this hot lamp_
_That is today’s divine surprise._
_Despite raw lights and gloating mobs_
_She is not seared: a picture still:_
_Rare silk the fine director’s hand_
_May weave for magic if he will._
_When ancient films have crumbled like_
_Papyrus rolls of Egypt’s day,_
_Let the dust speak: “Her pride was high,_
_All but the artist hid away:_
_“Kin to the myriad artist clan_
_Since time began, whose work is dear.”_
_The deep new ages come with her,_
_Tomorrow’s years of yesteryear._
--_Nicholas Vachel Lindsay._
_From “THE CHINESE NIGHTINGALE_
_and other Poems” by Vachel Lindsay._
_Published by The MacMillan Company._
CHAPTER I
_The dilemma of a casting director--A flood of letters_
_and their four objectives--What every-_
_one wants to know._
When Mr. Adolph Klauber, former dramatic critic of the New York Times,
was casting director for a big picture corporation I chanced to meet
him one day in the Fort Lee Studios.
“Read this,” he said, tendering me a letter.
It was from a young girl in Columbus, Ohio, as I remember, who wanted
to know how she could get into motion pictures. It was not so much the
letter as a small snap-shot photograph of herself which she had pinned
to her missive that took my attention.
The picture showed a girl in a sitting position, who was plump to
the verge of fatness. She had thick legs and ankles, straight hair,
probably brown, and dark eyes. So far as a front view divulged her
features were fairly regular. It was not in any way a remarkable
picture. Nor did it promise any particular animation in its subject.
She had written to ascertain “what chance she would have in motion
pictures.”
“What are you going to answer?” I asked of Mr. Klauber.
“That’s a poser,” he replied. “I was about to write her that she didn’t
have any chance; that she probably would be happier if she remained
home; certainly so until she obtained her parents’ consent for plans of
a career. Looking at the picture I should say she had one chance in a
million.”
“That is probably true,” I said.
“But do you know,” continued Mr. Klauber, “that the more I think of
it the less I believe that I am endowed with authority to tell anyone
that he or she has no chance in motion pictures. How can I know? We see
about us every day celebrated stars who, perhaps, began their career
with apparently no more chance than this little Columbus girl.”
Mr. Klauber paused.
“For that reason I have not sent the discouraging letter which it was
on the tip of my pen to write,” he continued. “Instead I am going to
send her a letter telling her that her chance of screen success is
altogether problematical; that everything depends upon circumstance,
hard work and the native talent that is developed before the camera.”
“I should like to see a copy of that letter,” I said.
I never happened to see Mr. Klauber’s reply to the girl in Columbus.
But I am sure it was interesting.
In the past eight years I have received hundreds of thousands of
letters from motion picture fans in every part of the world. In answer
now to a question I have often heard asked, “Does a motion picture star
immediately read all her mail?” I can say for myself, “Bless you, no.”
A single mail has brought as many as a thousand letters and I shall
leave it to the reader to determine how one could possibly read one
thousand letters and arrive at the studio at 8:30 o’clock. Personally,
my secretaries are instructed to attend to such fan letters as request
a reply--which practically all of them do--and then preserve the
letters that I may read them in leisure moments.
In that way I have managed I think to peruse at one time or another the
majority of the letters that come to me. I find the reading of them a
great pleasure.
It is nice to receive pleasant compliments on one’s hard and honest
effort to do something worth while. I have on many occasions found
helpful criticism in my mail. Almost anyone can dismiss a picture with
a “I liked it” or “I didn’t like it.” There is the exceptional one in
a thousand who will tell you he didn’t like it and why, placing his
finger upon a real defect. Often that is a help.
To get back to my point: The letters I receive seem to be written with
one, and sometimes all of the following objectives--
1. To request a photograph.
2. To request an autographed photograph.
3. To ask for “old clothes.”
4. To find out how “I can learn to act for motion pictures.”
As for Numbers 1 and 2, the many of you who are making a “collection”
know that a picture, autographed if requested, is sent you in due
time. Up to very recently the star has considered it a matter of good
advertising to remember those friends who are kind enough to ask for
photographs. But the demand for pictures has become so tremendous that
some of the stars are now making a flat charge of twenty-five cents
for their photographs. This barely covers the cost of production and
postage.
It was Miss Billie Burke, I believe, who was first to establish a cost
charge on her photographs. She did this during the war and donated the
receipts to charity.
The most of us have feared to risk offending those picture fans who
have been at the pains of writing us by asking them for a photographic
fee. We have spent from $10,000 to $25,000 a year out of our own
pockets--unless by our contracts our producers agreed to bear this
expense--and have trusted that it was money well expended. In the
amount of pleasure brought to the little ones I, for one, am sure it
has been.
But, as the demand for pictures grows greater and letters pour in
from all parts of the world, the cost of materials has been steadily
climbing. In 1915 I could send out three photographs for what it now
costs to send one. That means something when thousands of photo-mailers
each month are being sent to a dozen different countries.
Recently a well known star, a particular friend of mine, declared that
it was but a matter of months before all the more popular stars would
institute a photographic fee.
As to Number 3, regarding old clothes, I am sure that while the
requests emanate from worthy sources no star could possibly satisfy
these many supplications.
To begin with if the story calls for clothes that are actually old--old
enough to be considered “costumes”--they are usually supplied by the
producer and belong to him after production. In the case of modern
clothes--meaning new ones--most stars are very pleased to wear them
themselves when they have finished before the camera.
Such is mine own case. Whenever there is any danger of my reaching a
point of clothes saturation I have several growing sisters who, so
far, have been able to handle the situation. After that our clothes go
through certain pre-arranged channels of charity.
I make this point in the hope that many young ladies who have written
me for my “old clothes” will understand that I have few or none, as
much as I should like to accommodate each one of them.
Which brings me to Number 4.
“How can I learn to act for motion pictures?” Six years ago in “The
Birth of a Nation” days my mail brought me many such inquiries. Since
then, with the motion picture steadily gaining in favor, I have been
swamped with this universal request.
“Do brown eyes photograph better than blue?” “Is it necessary to have
stage training to act before a camera?” “Can a girl with a big nose
succeed in the movies?” “What is the accepted height for a motion
picture star?” “Are the morals of motion pictures safe for the average
girl?” “If I came to Hollywood and got work as an extra how long
would it be before I am featured?” “Do you know any director who will
star a small girl, of blond type, who has played parts in high school
comedies?” “Are the star salaries we hear of the real thing?” “Does
Charlie Chaplin make $1,000,000 a year?”
I have picked at random these few questions. I think I could go on and
on, farther than Mr. Tennyson’s charming brook, with others of the same
kind. Sometimes I am given to the thought that every young girl in the
United States wants to go into motion pictures.
Possibly I am right. You know as well as I. Receiving so many of these
letters I have begun to feel as Mr. Klauber felt. I don’t know exactly
what to say.
But since there are undoubtedly many thousands of boys and girls not
only in the United States but in foreign countries--the Japanese boy,
for instance, is particularly keen on knowing the how of motion picture
acting--who would like to get into motion pictures, I feel that such
information as I have acquired through a wide experience will interest
many and perhaps prove of value to those others who are destined to be
our cinema stars of tomorrow.
As for my qualifications I was about to say that I am one of the motion
picture pioneers. Yet when I say pioneer I think of Daniel Boone. And
Mr. Boone, had he lived, would have been an old, old man.