impression that there is hope for relief from such unfortunate conditions, true to life though they may be.
I am not advising namby-pamby photoplays, nor the handling of the vital questions of life with kid gloves. But remember that the surgeon cuts into the human body with very delicate instruments, not with buzz saws nor butcher knives. He gets to the vitals of the physical organism, but with a skill that heals, not with a brutishness that kills. So with you—if you would lay bare the ills of life, and heal them, if you would point out phases of human activity that are dramatic and compelling, remember that you are dealing in minds and hearts and souls, the most delicate and most sensitive of God's creations.
Some have criticized the realism of the scene in Hobart Bosworth's remarkable film, "Behind the Door," where he skins the villain alive. Yet it was done by suggestion only; the spectator saw merely the shadows cast on the wall from "behind the door." Even the simulation of such brutality in full sight upon the screen would have caused a revolt in every audience. "Let not Medea kill her boys in view," says Horace. You may suggest the blackest villany, the cruelest torture, but if you would avoid the censor's scissors and the audience's ire, do it with some appreciation of the feelings of others.
The drama and the photoplay of today accurately reflect the trend of modern thought—the struggle to know, to understand, to tear the veil of mystery that has hung for ages about the everyday problems of life. Hence, the photodramatist is privileged to present upon the screen problems and phases of life which are intimate and personal. But in doing so he must remember the cosmopolitan and international character of his audience, and govern himself accordingly.
In the selection of this theme or motif for a photoplay, we must also be sure that there can be injected into it something that is truly dramatic. For no matter how
