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Men Who Play God
THE PERSONALITIES of the men who sit
in the front office are of interest as much as their customs,
because their own natures influence the content of the movies
and mold the human relations in the whole system of movie production.
Also it is the executives (and producers) who have the greatest
power to stamp the movies with their personal daydreams and fantasies.
Then, too, the tendency of executives to see the movie audience
in their own image results in a rather high correlation between
the executives' personality and their opinions of the audience.
Apart from this situation, peculiar to
movie making, a knowledge of the personalities of any men who
wield power is always important, because power concentrated in
the hands of one man or a few becomes personalized. An extreme
example is the way the abnormal personality of Hitler helped to
give Nazi Germany its particular character. Even in quite simple
situations, where power is not highly concentrated, such as on
a relatively democratic college campus, it is still personalized.
The type of president who sits in the front office will influence
the behavior and attitudes of both faculty and students. In Hollywood,
too, the man who sits in the front office sets the tone of the
whole studio, influencing and shaping attitudes and behavior of
everyone in it; even more important, he leaves his stamp on the
movie.
To understand these men it is necessary to know their backgrounds.
Most of them have been with the industry since its beginning,
and there are many folk tales about how they started.
The tale of Mr. Smart Guy, now dead, goes back to the early pioneer days of California when he and a partner sold soap to gold miners and pioneers. Mr. Smart Guy double-crossed his part-
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ner by secretly cutting each cake of
soap in half, selling it for the price of the whole cake, and
keeping the additional money for him self. He soon became wealthy
and began buying up vaudeville and other show houses in the West.
Soon a competitor came on the scene, and also began buying up
the same kind of show houses. The competition between the two
men was extremely keen. It was carried to such length that if
anyone worked for Mr. Smart Guy he could not work for his competitor
and vice versa. Mr. Smart Guy, however, managed the situation
in his usual clever way and married his daughter to his competitor,
thus merging the business interests.
When the movies began he bought up a circuit and later a studio
bought him out. In the deal Mr. Smart Guy agreed to take less
money than the original price on the condition that his son have
a permanent job with them as a producer. The son was an alcoholic
and finally the studio pensioned him off because it was impossible
to get any work from him.
Another and more recent story concerns
a top executive whose background was that of a poor New York boy
who started out as an office worker, and through a chance meeting
on the beach in Coney Island with the president of a movie company,
received a job as secretary in the New York office of the company.
Soon he was on the way to bigger and better jobs. He eventually
became engaged to the boss's daughter and was given an executive's
job. Then he received a better offer from another studio, which
he promptly accepted. He broke his engagement.
Like other executives with similar backgrounds, he surrounded himself with assistants who had also been poor boys whom he had known in his childhood and youth. Very few had any training or special gifts in the medium of the movies, but they seemed to be the only kind of men he could trust. It happens frequently, and not only in the motion picture industry, that men who have attained great success by being "smart" and by getting the "breaks" are jealous and distrustful of men with training or with special abilities.
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Not all in charge of production are poor boys without training. Mr. Intelligent, a very exceptional front-office person, is from a middle-class background and began with the ambition of becoming a playwright. He wrote plays for which he was unable to get Broadway production and supported himself by doing all kinds of odd jobs, some related to the theater and some unrelated. He spent his summers in the traditional way of many unsuccessful theater people, in charge of entertainment at summer camps. Eventually he came out to Hollywood as a writer and had considerable success; he went on to being a producer, where he was again successful. Recently he became the executive head in charge of production for a major studio. He is the first man, starting as a playwright and movie writer, to achieve this position. Unlike the previous executive described, he tends to surround himself with men of training, of proven intelligence and ability. His personality and functioning are each quite different from the other top executives.
The personalities of the front-office
executives are more complicated than their backgrounds. Mr. Big
Shot, the head of a large studio, has a reputation for imposing
his will and authority on everyone in the whole studio. And yet
his desire for power over people is not the whole story, for he
has a deep and strong interest in the production of movies and
the output of his studio includes some unusual and excellent pictures
as well as the run-of-the-mill.
Mr. Big Shot brooks no interference,
and wants to have his finger in every pie. Firsthand accounts
of his treatment of employees from producers to costume designers
are legion. He had a discussion with an able director who said
he did not think the sound effects in a picture they were making
were good. Mr. Big Shot turned to him and shouted belligerently,
"Who said you were any good? You stink!" The director
said no more about sound effects. He did not, however, remain
much longer at the studio.
Another time Mr. Big Shot did not impose his will quite so easily. He ordered a scene which gave the psychological motivation for the picture cut out. Both the producer and director wanted it in, and fought with him on the issue; but of course, in the end, lost.
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The producer withdrew his name from the picture. Another time Mr. Big Shot enforced his will on a trifling detail when he told a costumer who had been in business for thirty years that the collar of an actor's costume was one quarter of an inch too high. The costumer changed the height of the collar.
Mr. Big Shot's desire for domination
is so strong that he keeps people in a position of subservience
even if it means a loss to the studio. A gifted director objected
to doing a certain picture because he thought the story was false
and that the movie could not possibly be anything but a flop.
He would not enjoy doing a bad picture and he knew his reputation
as a director would suffer if he turned out one. He tried to explain
all this to Mr. Big Shot-who, however, insisted that the script
was O.K. and that it must be done. The director attempted to hold
his own, but in the end lost out. Mr. Big Shot told some other
people that he wanted this director to have a "flop,"
because he had enjoyed three box-office successes in a row and
was becoming too independent. A flop would bring him to heel and
keep him more under control.
Many actors and directors find it difficult
to work for Mr. Big Shot because of the drastic changes which
he introduces into the script. The actors complain that the directors
never seem to know from day to day what they are doing. The former
come to the studio prepared to do their parts, only to find them
changed. Mr. Big Shot may have ordered five pages of the script
replaced by new ones on short notice. They can never trust the
director or the producer, because both are completely subject
to Mr. Big Shot's orders which keep on coming in during the entire
making of a film.
Typical of the atmosphere which surrounds this executive is a scene in the cutting room. When Mr. Big Shot sees the first run of a picture which has just been put together, his own projection man runs the machine. Gathered in the room for this first running will be a number of people: the producer, the director, the cutters, the leading stars and others who have been concerned with making the picture. They all wait for Mr. Big Shot to appear. When the projection man hears his footsteps in the hall, he lowers the lights and immediately everyone becomes quiet. The great man then enters and the picture is run.
104 HOLLYWOOD, THE DREAM FACTORY
The situation is reversed when a banker
on the Board of Directors visits the studio. Then Mr. Big Shot,
like many others of this personality type, becomes subservient
before a higher authority. The studio was doing a picture based
on a successful Broadway play. At the first running of the picture
in the projecting room, Mr. Big Shot indicated that he liked it
except for one sequence containing a dream; he said to the director:
"That dream sequence stinks. Cut it out." So it was
cut out. A day later the Picture was run again without the dream
sequence before Mr. Big Shot and the banker on the Board of Directors,
who happened to be visiting the studio. The banker had seen the
Broadway play from which the picture was made, and after the film
was run, turned to Mr. Big Shot and said, "What happened
to the dream sequence?" Mr. Big Shot was silent for a minute
or two and then replied, "We're working on it." As soon
as the banker left the room, Mr. Big Shot told the director to
put the dream sequence back. The interesting point is that Mr.
Big Shot originally took the dream sequence out because it was
not well done and not really essential to the picture. He preferred
omitting it rather than incurring the expense of doing over a
sequence which could be removed without affecting the story. But
when the banker questioned him, he could no more dissent that
he could allow an employee to differ with him. This kind of behavior
is common to most people of the sadomasochistic type, or more
colloquially, the bully.
Mr. Big Shot, however, is not an executive
who lacks understanding of movies. His suggestions for cutting
are sometimes, but not always, good and for the improvement of
the picture. But frequently the point at issue is not the good
of the movie, not even profits; it is simply the imposing of one
man's will on his employees.
Big Shot has the desire to say, I did it," regardless of how many other people have contributed to the picture, and is personally concerned with almost every picture that comes out of the studio. These vary a great deal, from light musical comedies to important, serious films. He appears to enjoy doing a serious film, perhaps one with social implications, because it presents a challenge. Other executives have said that this 'kind of picture is impossible and cannot make
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money. He responds: "There is nothing
impossible for me. I'll show that it can be done." He appears
to have no social or political principles, conservative, radical
or liberal, and from his studio have come pictures with social
implications on both sides of the political fence.
Although many people who have worked for Mr. Big Shot spend much time taking cracks at his egocentric behavior, most of them agree that he has at times shown real understanding of films (particularly in the cutting), and that his consuming interest in life is movies. At least, they say, he spends his time in the studio. The fact that this point is made very spontaneously and frequently, and a comparison drawn with other executives whose major interests lie outside of the studio, is not without significance.
A number of executives give the impression that their only concern in the studio is profits, that they have no particular interest in movies, that they would have been equally happy in any other profitable industry, and that their major interests lie in their hobbies such as horse racing, aviation, yachting or women. When the head of one studio sold his horses, it was the topic for every columnist connected with Hollywood and reams of words were turned out, some designed to be taken seriously and others facetiously. That racing was not just a pastime for this executive, but also a source of his wealth, is indicated when it was reported in the Hollywood Citizen News 1 that his horses were reputed to have won, over a nine-year period, $1,732,036, and that the auction price for his stable was $1,553,500.
Mr. Intelligent, whose background as a playwright and script writer has been described, is a new type of front-office executive. He stands out from the typical ones because of his personality, ideas, and manner of functioning. He thinks the content of a movie is at least as, if not more, important than its star and that the best pictures are those on which one man, a producer, a director or a writer, leaves his mark. He is frankly interested in seeing that there will be among the annual output of the studio-which includes musical
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comedies, farces, serials and Westerns
several serious pictures which attempt to illuminate a section
of contemporary life. He knows he must make a profit for the studio
if he is to continue in his high-salaried job. But neither studio
profit nor personal earnings have been able to eliminate his serious
interest in producing good movies. He is an intelligent man with
broad interests and knowledge, and yet at the same time he is
probably the most unpretentious person in the top ranks. He is
able to take the intellect for granted and is not under any compulsion
to show off as is one executive who mistakenly prides himself
on being an intellectual. Mr. Intelligent does not regard himself
as a genius, but seems to have realistic knowledge and a capacity
for planned intelligent work. He is not apolitical as is Mr. Big
Shot but has, in a number of situations, been outspoken on the
liberal side of social issues, and again he differs from others
who pride themselves on being socially minded but whose liberalness
is limited to being on innumerable committees and making lofty
pronouncements. Mr. Intelligent has never gone in for racing,
for gambling, yachting, night-clubbing, and all the other aspects
of "playing the game" in Hollywood. This does not mean
that he has paid no attention to personal relationships. His own
personality is unique among Hollywood executives in that he is
even-tempered, without obvious tensions, and with a faculty for
getting along easily with large numbers of different kinds of
people. He is even more unique in that he respects the people
he works with. He is not surrounded with the usual pomp and ritual
of the front office and makes a direct contact with practically
everyone in the studio. If a writer or director argues with him,
the argument does not become a struggle for domination with the
victory going, of necessity, to the executive because of his power.
Instead, it is a rational discussion on basic issues connected
with the film, and the outcome is not predetermined.
A distinguished character actor who has been playing second leads for the past twelve years in Hollywood says his experience at Mr. Intelligent's studio was unique. At Mr. Big Shot's studio, where he did a number of pictures, he saw the executive walk through the set occasionally saying "Hello" to the actors, and this was the limit of the relationship. At another large studio where he worked for
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five or six years, he saw the top executive
only twice and never spoke to or was spoken to by him. At the
studio headed by Mr. Intelligent he and all the male actors in
the cast received a personal letter and a tie clasp from him wishing
them well, and the girls received flowers with the same good wishes
when the shooting of a picture began. When it was ended Mr. Intelligent
sent him a bound copy of the script personally inscribed. During
the shooting Mr. Intelligent came on the set, making helpful and
intelligent suggestions, always in a "soft-spoken and gentlemanly
manner," rather than in the brow-beating tone of so many
others. This actor, successful and with prestige, talks about
the incident in great detail, stressing its uniqueness, and ending
with the statement, "I would love to work at that studio
again."
Mr. Intelligent was the only top executive
of a major studio who received such spontaneous and sincere loyalty
from the able and talented people of his studio. The genuine respect
and admiration in which he was held by producers, directors, writers,
actors and publicity men and many others, is in sharp contrast
to the face-to-face false flattery and behind-the-back derisive
disparagement, amounting many times to contempt, accorded most
other executives. The atmosphere of his studio was very different
from those ruled by an authoritarian head dominating through fear.
In one such studio everyone, from heads of departments, big producers,
$3000-a-week writers and actors to bit players, was affected by
the fear which pervaded the studio even when its "master"
was away for long periods of time. They talked in whispers when
saying the most innocent things.
Mr. Intelligent not only respects the
people who work for him but is again unusual in that he respects
the audience. He confirms the hypothesis that executives and producers
tend to see the audiences in their own reflection. He is unorthodox
enough to believe that a function of the movies is to raise the
taste of the audience rather than to cater to its lowest point,
and he thinks that a sufficiently large section of it appreciates
good pictures to make them profitable.
Mr. Intelligent does not think he is a genius or the greatest showman on earth. He seems to have a realistic concept of himself, of the
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motion picture industry, and of a world beyond that. There is no other top executive in the major studios like him, and his significance lies in the fact that a man of his sort can and did become successful. It is too early to know whether he represents an aberration or a new trend. The hypothesis is the latter.
A much clearer picture of the way the
front office functions and its influence in the studio and on
the movies is revealed in the day-by-day relationships of the
executives with producers, directors, writers, and actors. Here,
it must be emphasized, Mr. Intelligent is unusual; his background,
personality and behavior highlight, by contrast, the norm among
executives. The majority of them are in their present positions
of power because they were lucky in getting in on the ground floor
of an industry which meets a popular need and for whose products,
good or bad, there has been up to now a continuous demand. They
do not seem to have the planning ability, acumen, and common sense
of executives of other industries such as prefabricated houses
or automobiles. Unlike many other business executives they have
little knowledge of the actual consumers of their product, and
none of the potential ones. Nor do they truly comprehend the nature
of movies as a popular art. They are in positions of great power
in one of the major mass communications, and although there are
many lofty pronouncements such as one studio's slogan, COMBINING
GOOD PICTURES WITH GOOD CITIZENSHIP it is only the very exceptional
executive who demonstrates any responsibility, social or aesthetic.
Most of them are asocial and apolitical rather than antisocial
or antipolitical. They are opportunists ready to exploit the latest
sensation or any popular attitude. A studio executive will favor
making a pro-Russian picture at a time when it will bring in profits,
and at another time an anti-Russian film when that will be profitable.
The god is profits, and opportunism the ritual of worship. To the average executive any picture with a "message," unless it is one fitting into the latest sensation, is condemned. The point that responsibility might be concerned not with messages but with whether the picture has inner truthfulness, whether it offers a refreshing or deteriorating form of escape, has not even occurred to most of
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them. They talk naïvely in terms of "pure entertainment," without any knowledge of the many-sided functions of all entertainment.
In the best of times, these experienced
showmen are anxious and they are in a panic when the demand for
the product ceases to function automatically because of restrictions
on foreign markets, an inflation reduces the money people can
afford to spend on movies, foreign films become popular in urban
centers, and government prohibitions threaten monopolistic control
of the industry. A visitor to Hollywood remarked that, "Hollywood
is the only town in this booming country which has managed to
manufacture its own private depression." 2
The showmen's instinct seems to have
failed. For otherwise they might know that there has been a constant
trend to more and more diversification in the audience since its
early days. Yet an important executive of a major studio looks
to the past when he thinks of its future policy. In 1949, "viewing
the industry's future, Louis B. Mayer says, 'I am reminded of
the late Marcus Loew always pounding home to Nick Schenck, Bob
Rubin, myself and others that the picture business was a Woolworth
business where they can bring the entire family." 3 This
may have been true once. But, today, even a casual glance of any
movie audience would indicate that it does not consist of family
units. In most families, ten-year-olds, teenage adolescents, and
their parents do not feel that they should necessarily go to the
movies together or even see the same one. They take for granted
that the same picture will not please all of them, and usually
each one has more fun going with his own age group. The potential
audience for movies is as diversified as is that for books, for
magazines and for newspapers.
The showman's instinct seems also to have failed to indicate the improvement and changes in popular tastes that are due in part to a rising educational level. Hollywood has consistently prepared fare suited to a young and relatively uneducated audience; yet it is surprised when surveys of audiences show that the majority are under
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thirty years, and when educated people are critical of the average movie fare. Perhaps the executive is no longer correct in saying, "If I don't like this picture, no one will." Perhaps his instinct is not such a sure guide. Perhaps the present "hard times" may in the end be beneficial if a custom known in other businesses as "thinking" is substituted for instinct. Perhaps a new type of executive is needed.
It is only the men who have an understanding of drama who can integrate in any meaningful way the art of storytelling with mass production. It is apparently easier for these entrepreneurs of early movie days to learn about the business end of mass production than it is for them to learn about storytelling. The problem remains essentially one of knowing how to achieve the best conditions for creative storytelling in a mass-production system. This cannot be done by men whose drive is for domination rather than creativity, who think in formulas and in clichés, and who have no realistic concept of the audience.
1 March 27, 1947.
2 Thomas F. Brady, "Opinion from the West," in New York
Times, August 15, 1948.
3 Variety, February 9, 1949