I Think A Man Ought To Get

There Are Two Kinds Of Truth; The Truth That Lights The Way And The Truth That Warms The Heart. The Fist Of These Is Science And The Second Is Art.

The Making Of A Picture Ought Surely To Be A Rather Fascinating Adventure. It Is Not; It Is An Endless Contention Of Tawdry Egos, Some Of Them Powerful, Almost All Of Them Vociferous, And Almost None Of Them Capable Of Anything Much More Creative Than Credit-stealing And Self-promotion.

It Was About Eleven O'clock In The Morning, Mid October, With The Sun Not Shining And A Look Of Hard Wet Rain In The Clearness Of The Foothills. I Was Wearing My Powder-blue Suit, With Dark Blue Shirt, Tie And Display Handkerchief, Black Brogues, Black Wool Socks With Dark Little Clocks On Them. I Was Neat, Clean, Shaved And Sober, And I Didn't Care Who Knew It. I Was Everything The Well-dressed Private Detective Ought To Be. I Was Calling On Four Million Dollars.

Hollywood Is A Showman's Paradise. But Showmen Make Nothing; They Exploit What Someone Else Has Made. The Publisher And The Play Producer Are Showmen Too; But They Exploit What Is Already Made. The Showmen Of Hollywood Control The Making - And Thereby Degrade It. For The Basic Art Of Motion Pictures Is The Screenplay; It Is Fundamental, Without It There Is Nothing. Everything Derives From The Screenplay, And Most Of That Which Derives Is An Applied Skill Which, However Adept, Is Artistically Not In The Same Class With The Creation Of A Screenplay.

Tall, Aren't You? I Didn't Mean To Be.