As one critic has remarked, “Screen credit for the author may not bring him the credit for which he is looking.”  In other words, if the director bungles a scene or allows some historical or other inaccuracy to creep into the picture, the blame may be placed by the unthinking spectator on the author—­or even, in case of the picture’s being an adaptation of a novel, on the writer who prepared the continuity, or scenario.  Thus, while what Mr. Hoagland wrote was written in 1912, the Red Cross flag was seen waving bravely in Paralta’s “Madame Who?”, produced in 1918, and we feel sure that neither Mr. Harold MacGrath, who wrote the novel, nor Mr. Monte M. Katterjohn, the staff-writer who wrote the scenario, was responsible for the error.

So it will be seen that the photoplaywright may easily find himself under the fire not only of the professional critic, but also of the lay patron and of his brother writers.  Do not, therefore, risk anything that may, so to speak, make it easier for the director to “go wrong.”  To quote Davy Crockett’s motto, “Be sure you’re right; then go ahead.”

As an example of what may happen if you fail to observe this warning, consider the Vitagraph release, “A Wasted Sacrifice,” referred to in the previous chapter.[28] The big “punch” in this story, as already pointed out, was where the young squaw steps on the concealed rattlesnake.  Women in the audience screamed; men felt the proverbial “cold chill” run down their spines.  Then came the climax, in which the young Westerner, hoping to save the life of the papoose, takes it away from the dead mother and hurries back to meet the doctor-sheriff who is pursuing him with the posse.  The doctor tells him that the child is dead; his sacrifice—­from which the story derives its title—­has been unnecessary.  The poison, drawn from the breast of the stricken woman by the nursing child, has killed the baby.  A real “punch,” indeed!  But wait.  A prominent physician in an Eastern city writes to the producing company protesting that it is impossible for a child to draw poison into its system in the manner described.  And the physician knows!  In other words, what happened in the picture could not happen in real life.  The backbone of the plot has been broken!  Seven in ten people might not know the difference; they would never question the probability of the scene.  The other three in ten would know, and, seeing your name on the film, would put you down as a first-class “nature faker,” or else as a very careless and badly informed writer.  And remember that even though the director may be the one most to blame for not taking the trouble to verify the action introduced into your story before putting it on, you will be the one blamed by those in the studio, and your next story will undoubtedly be looked at askance, and probably rejected.

[Footnote 28:  See synopsis in Chapter VIII.]

CHAPTER XVII