When we made Gypsy Blood, back in 1919, we had almost no facilities whatever; I don't think we had more than eight lights for the whole picture! All that has changed, but one thing is the same as ever: the American cameramen are the best in the world. How we used to envy them in the old days! They knew one thing that we would have given anything to know: they could photograph their people so that the makeup didn't show! They made pictures of human beings rather than actors. They were wonderful to us then, and they still are, for they are just as far in the lead as ever.
Perhaps the greatest point about American camerawork is that it is truly artistic. It is beautiful, it is distinctive, but it doesn't call attention to itself. This is greatness in art, that it is great yet not obviously great. For when art begins to be apparent, to show itself as a definite, studied effort to be artistic, it ceases to be art, for true art needs no label. To me, that explains the greatness of American cinematography. Also, it is the key to my objection to Carl Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc. That picture had brilliant moments, but it was so studied, so obviously calculated to make people gasp, and to say, "See, that is art," that it overreached itself.
Color photography? Of course it is bound to come. Right now, I prefer expertly photographed black-and-white to any of the color work so far available. It is more perfect, and less distracting. But there is no doubt a demand for colored films is rising, a demand which will become universal when the technicians develop a really perfect color process — one that will show real people instead of pale dummies. Mr. Milner tells me that this will come when they work out what he calls a three-color process: I hope that one is developed soon, for it seems that they are forcing the growth of this demand for color, and if there aren't improvements technically, I think that the future of color will be unpleasantly dull.
And what is the future of talking pictures? Of course I'm an optimist! They are certainly here to stay, and, in spite of what everyone was saying a year ago, picture people are going to stay with them. Just think, now, of the greatest talkies of the last few months: The Broadway Melody, In Old Arizona, Hollywood Revue, Coquette, Bulldog Drummond, Alibi, Thunderbolt, The Lady Lies, and any others you might name — every one made by a silent-picture director. And where are the big ones made by your stage directors? Yes, the silent-pictures directors are going to be the ones who make this new medium the great thing it is going to be. And the new directors of the future are going to come from the picture-trained people, too, and as usual many of the best of these will be men from behind the cameras. For whether you are making pictures silent or talking, you are still making pictures, and to make pictures you must first of all know how to see drama through the eye of the camera!
