In Theda Bara's Tent (as Reviewed by Publisher's Weekly)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Why dont you just use a match?

What if you dont got a match. He considered me for a minute while asking himself some question I was not able to hear, then reached into his pocket, and I knew the answer. Yes, Harry was old enough to smoke. I put the cigar he offered me into my mouth and waited for him to ignite his Wonderlite, its name printed on the base. The flame shot up, and I drew back. Louie held the thing steady as I lowered my cigar into it. See? he said when the tobacco caught. Whatd I tell you. Huh? I nodded approval as he set his lighter in its place of honor next to his inkwell. I always keep up with the times, Harry. I hoped Louie noticed what an experienced smoker I was.

This war in Europe, he said, bad for them, good for us. Nothing coming out of there now. Exhibitors here screaming for feature pictures. You think the public wants to sit in those expensive movie-palace seats and see the crap thats coming out of New York? One-reel slapstick and shoot-’em-ups. I go to a meeting of exhibitors, and they argue over how long people can pay attention. They say a motion picture is a short story, not a novel. They say no one wants a picture longer than ten minutes.

Ten minutes is not enough of Theda Bara, I said, puffing.

Is that who you like? Is that who the young boys want to take to their beds? With them snake bracelets all up her arms?

And what about Cabiria? President Wilson sat on the White House lawn and watched all ten reels of it.

Maybe he had to. Maybe the Italian ambassador was sitting next to him. We both laughed in a way that meant it was fun to be cynical. Point is, they aint sending nothing here now—no Cabiria, no nothing. Kaput. You know whats in the film studios over there now instead of cameras and scenery? Ammunition. You know what them actors wear now instead of costumes? Uniforms. You know whats on the fields where they used to build stage sets? Bloody bodies, thats what.

Lasky and Fox have the right idea, I said, tapping my ash into a souvenir of the Flume.

You been following the trades? You still interested?

Theater owners have invested thousands converting legitimate theaters into picture palaces. Theyre begging American producers to create longer pictures. I read about it all the time, Louie. I know a fellow here, Nathan Gordon. His audiences are complaining.  They say hes still charging them big at the box office and showing them shit.

You swear now?

I am up to my neck in shit, Louie.

Yeah? You look good.

The producers here in America, Louie, theyve got to take the next step. Theyve got to take more risk. Theyve got to dare invest in more film and find scenario writers who can map out longer photoplays. Youre right to throw in with Lasky. Lasky, Fox and Griffith are the only ones with their heads screwed on right.

Nathan Gordon,” Louie said. “I know Gordon. His people buy Laskys pictures from my people. It felt so wonderful to be with Louie that I got up, ran around to his side of the desk, kissed his big cheek in a noisy, comical way and went back to my chair. He wiped his cheek and laughed. He said, My immediate problem, Harry, is the lack of forty thousand dollars. He swiveled to the window, looked out at the brick air shaft and swiveled back. Here is an opportunity, and I cannot seize it. Through his open window, we heard the remains of the parade outside fading away. Some of the boys in the distribution business in New York, he said leaning across the desk so he could talk closer to my face, have pooled their money so they can make pictures. What we are discussing today, me and you, is not unknown, Harry. Now is the time to make feature pictures here in America. Why should I have to buy pictures from Jesse Lasky when I can make the pictures myself? And lets say, just for the sake of discussion, that I not only make the pictures, but I distribute them too. You see the advantage here? I will own what I sell. William Fox already does this. He has his Fox Film Company and his distribution company and, on top of that, Harry, he owns the theaters that show his pictures. Hes got it sewn up top to bottom, bottom to top. Vertical integration is how they call this. Remember that. Vertical integration. Now I dont got no vertical integration. All I got is pieces. I got theaters, and I got this distribution company, but it aint vertical. They aint connected together. He puffed on his cigar for a moment. This new venture theyre calling Metro Pictures Corporation, and they plan to acquire one new motion picture per week, each picture costing between fifteen and twenty thousand dollars. They want me to buy in. To do so, I need forty thousand dollars. He handed me “Moving Picture World” magazine with a classified ad circled in red. Read it. Go on. Read it out loud.