Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-05-26
Flashes From the Screen
BY c. e. Nelson.

from which to feed their talkies,
transferring the prestige of the
footlights to the screen. Even
this subsidy of the legitimate by
movie money, of which the screen
was to be the ultimate beneficiary.
could not avoid imparting a meas
ure of health to the stage itself.
One thing it evidenced was an
admission from moviedom that
the legitimate was still important,
perhaps vital, to its own welfare.
The mutual interdependence, the
bland and soothing overture of
cooperation was a welcome sign
GU. of chaos.
Consider the scene when the
talkieS first began their savage
raids on Broadway and it does not
seem strange that loud lamenta-
tions filled the air. Prophecies of
the death of the stage within
three or five years gained credi-
bility when the actual pinch Of
casting and producing plays be-
came felt. Broadway dramatic,
operate and musical comedy
stars, dancers, playWrights, direc-
tors and Song-writerS had been
drawn movieward at fabulous sal
aries, and the stage reeled at the
first shock.
The movies refused to admit
that there was anything the stage
could do that the talkies couldn't
do, and they came close to proving
it. Boldly the talkieS declared
that they would do straight
drama, melodrama, comedy, must
cal comedy, opera or Shakespeare;
that they would provide these
things to a greater number of
people and at a lower price than
the stage could. The economic
principle cas- far as the talkies are
concernedD was sound. If they
could dangle 100000 before
Chaliapin; if they could pay
Jeanne Eagles or Ruth Chatterton
10 times more for one talkie than
either actress could make in a
year on Broadway; if they could
spend five times the money on a
talkie version of Rio Rita" that
even ziegfeld might have spent
on his stage production-if they
could do these things they could
at the same time do a boX-office
gross in their talkie houses on
Broadway and all over the country
that kept their net profits sky
high. Stage plays were presented
in houses of $500 or 1000 seats.
A good weeks gross was from $780,
600 to $4,000. A talkie house just
next door seating 1000 or 5000
people, took into the box office
two or three times as much.
BY now a little order has come
out of the first disorder. Lines
of distinction between the stage
and the talkies have asserted
themselves, indicating that both
may live and prosper. Some of the
blood which Hollywood drained
from Broadway is proving super
fiuous. All of the stage people,
all of the big names snatched to
the films have not made good and
are drifting back to the legitimate.
A surprising number of the old
movie stars have held their
ground, proving even more ac-
ceptable in the talkies than they
were in the silent movies.
When the talkies have at last
developed a technique which shall
logically contain elements from
both the stage and the cinema,
when talkie consumption shall
have reached a level within the
present saturation point, then it
seems reasonable to expect that
the stage will still be strong in its
own right. There may be a few
lean seasons between now and
then, with better, if fewer, plays
on the stage, but one is inclined
to hold with Henry Becque's de-
cisive cry, LA fin du theatre!
C'est impoSsible!" for, somehow,
the curtain seems to rise with
each new season.
X X X X
HIGH-CLASS vaudeville is COM
= ing back. Not on the stage,
in all probability. but on the
screen. This fact is evident by a