The Shadow on the Screen
Henry Kuttner
Torture Master was being given a sneak preview at a Beverly Hills theatre. Somehow, when my credit line, “Directed by Peter Haviland,” was flashed on the screen, a little chill of apprehension shook me, despite the applause that came from a receptive audience. When you’ve been in the picture game for a long time you get these hunches; I’ve often spotted a dud movie before a hundred feet have been reeled off. Yet
Torture Master was no worse than a dozen similar films I’d handled in the past few years.
But it was formula, box-office formula. I could see that. The star was all right; the make-up department had done a good job; the dialogue was unusually smooth. Yet the film was obviously box-office, and not the sort of film I’d have liked to direct.
After watching a reel unwind amid an encouraging scattering of applause, I got up and went to the lobby. Some of the gang from Summit Pictures were lounging there, smoking and commenting on the picture. Ann Howard, who played the heroin in Torture Master, noticed my scowl and pulled me into a corner. She was that rare type, a girl who will screen well without all of that greasepaint that makes you look like an animated corpse. She was small, and her hair and eyes and skin were brown—I’d like to have seen her play Peter Pan. That type, you know.
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