Reel Life Films

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  _At least a contributing factor to the current cycle of science fiction movies being made in Hollywood is the touchiness of minorities having their nationals being portrayed as villains. Cinema-makers are now trying to avoid further boycotts by using space aliens for villains. But suppose some of our Extraterrestrial neighbors are also a bit touchy?_

  reel life films

  _by ... Jacques Jean Ferrat_

  Pity the poor purveyor of mere entertainment in today's world. He can't afford to offend a soul, yet must have a villain.

  Twenty-five years ago Cyril Bezdek and E. Carter Dorwin would have metin a private railway car belonging to one of them. They might even havemet in a private train. At any rate they would have met in absoluteprivacy. But it being the present, they had to be content with a seriesof adjoining rooms taking up less than one half of a car on theSuper-Sachem, fastest coast-to-coast train in the country.

  Their meeting in private was very important. Upon its results hinged thefuture of Gigantic Studios, one of Hollywood's big three productioncompanies.

  Dorwin was the powerful plenipotentiary of the Consolidated TrustCompany of Manhattan and backer of Gigantic's multimillion-dollarproductions. He was on his way West to make sure that the interests ofhis bank were being adequately served by the studio.

  Bezdek was Gigantic's supreme production boss. Former office boy,writer, prop man, assistant-director, director, producer, and storyeditor, he was the works--unless Dorwin decided otherwise during thismeeting and pulled the props out from under him. He had thought Dorwin'strip sufficiently important to fly to Kansas City and get aboard theSuper-Sachem to be with the banker during the remainder of his trip.

  They had dined in the privacy of Dorwin's suite--Bezdek as befitted histortured duodenum on yogurt and Melba toast--Dorwin on caviar, consomme,a thick steak with full trimmings, and a golden baked Alaska accompaniedby Armagnac.

  "How do you manage to keep thin?" Bezdek asked him, honestly envious."Polo, tennis? Golf would never do it."

  "I haven't exercised in ten years," said the banker, biting off the endof a Havana Perfecto. He studied the little movie-maker over the flameof his lighter. Outside, the flat expanse of Kansas rushed past throughthe night at close to a hundred miles an hour.

  "Some people are lucky," said Bezdek, adjusting the broad knot of hishand-painted Windsor tie. He was remarshaling his thoughts and ideas. Itwas very important that he and Dorwin be in perfect accord before theyreached Hollywood.

  The banker, who was new to the movie-making branch of his business,spoke first. "I presume," he said finally, "that you're aware of thecurrent feeling in our New York office?"

  The movie magnate gestured carelessly with a Saxony gun-club sleeve,revealing a platinum wristwatch strap. "We hear rumors now and again,"he said. "It's about our science fiction films." Bezdek avoided makingit a question. He was far too shrewd for that.

  The banker, finding himself thus at a disadvantage, said amicably, "It'snot that the fantasy series isn't making money, understand." He paused,looking faintly distressed. "It's just that, frankly, we feel they'regetting too far away from reality. Trips to Mars and Venus--strangecreatures.... It's not real--it's not dignified. Frankly, we questionwhether an institution like ours can afford to be connected withanything so--so ephemeral. After all ..."

  He paused as sounds of a scuffle in the corridor penetrated the room andsomething or somebody was banged hard against the door. Bezdek,frowning, jumped up nervously and went to the door, opened it, lookedout.

  "What's going on out there?" he inquired tartly. "_Ty!_"

  "Sorry, Mr. Bezdek," said Ty Falter, the mogul's private secretary,bodyguard and constant companion. He was leaning against the far wall ofthe corridor, mopping a cut lower lip with a bloody handkerchief. He wasa tall, deceptively sleepy-looking young man who virtually never slept.

  At the end of the corridor two lesser aides were half-dragging a tallfigure between them. Bezdek frowned as he caught a glimpse of a noddinghead in half profile--a near-perfect profile which showed no sign of abruise.

  "How did that creep get in here?" he snapped. "That's the same characterwho tried to nail me at the K.C. airport."

  "Yes, sir," said Ty Falter apologetically. He glanced at his skinnedknuckles. "It was like hitting a brick," he said. He shook his head,added, "Sorry, Mr. Bezdek. I don't know how he got in here."

  "Your job is to keep crackpots like that away from me," said the mogul.He turned and went back inside the compartment. Dorwin was still sittingas before.

  "Eavesdroppers?" the banker inquired with unruffled poise.

  "Not likely," said Bezdek, dropping into his seat. "Probably amovie-crazy kid trying to chisel a screen test."

  * * * * *

  The incident had brought back his heartburn. He wanted to take a coupleof his pills but not in front of Dorwin. The banker might think he wascracking up. These damned New Yorkers had no idea of the pressure underwhich he labored. He sipped a glass of flat soda water.

  "Where were we?" Dorwin said quietly. Somehow to Bezdek he gave theimpression of remorseless rationality. "Oh, yes, these fantasymovies--we're a little worried about them."

  "I thought you might be," said Bezdek, leaning forward and using thefull magnetism of his personality. Now that the issue was out in theopen his discomfort was eased. "Actually we don't think of ourinterplanetary cycle as fantasy, Dorwin. We think of them as forecastsof the future, as prophecy."

  "They're still a far cry from reality, or even the usual escapism," saidthe banker. "Confidentially, I happen to _know_ that it will beyears--perhaps decades--before we make any live contact with the otherplanets. Our national interests demand that we prevent atomic power fromsuperseding older methods before investments have realized on theirholdings to the fullest extent. And it is upon development of atomicpower that space-flight hinges at present."

  "Certainly I understand that--sound business," said Bezdek with hisone-sided smile. "I hope they wait for many years."

  Dorwin looked faintly astonished. "From these pictures of yours I mustconfess I had derived a totally different impression of your theories,"he said slowly, flicking two inches of pale grey ash into the silvertray at his elbow.

  "Listen to me," said the movie-maker, again leaning toward hisvis-a-vis. "We're making these pictures now because when the first manor men come back from other planets our science fiction cycle isfinished. It will cease to be _escape_. We will then be faced with thereality of what they really find--and that's bound to be a great dealdifferent from the sort of thing we're feeding them now."

  "It's a point I hadn't considered," said the banker, reaching for thebrandy. He nodded to himself as he poured it, then looked up at Bezdekand asked, "But why this--space opera is the colloquial term, I believe?Why not stick closer to real life?"

  Bezdek sat back and the slanting smile creased his features again."Minorities," he said. "That's why. Crackpot minorities object loudly atbeing portrayed in films they don't like. We don't want to tread onanybody's toes--there's trouble enough in the world as it is. Peoplewant villains. But unless we make our villains--even minorvillains--people from nowhere we get boycotted somewhere by somebody.And that costs us money."

  "Yes, of course," said the banker, "but I fail to see--"

  "It's simple." Bezdek was in full cry now and interrupted openly."People like conflict in their movies. If it's a Western they want theirheroes to fight Indians or Mexicans or rustlers. The Indians andMexicans object to being the villains and they've got big sympatheticfollowings. Okay, so we use rustlers or renegade white men and we stillmake West
erns--but not many. No plot variety."

  He sipped more soda water. "It's the same with everything else. Unlesswe're in a war with a legitimate enemy to hate we can't use villains.It's almost enough to make a man wish--"

  "Not with the H-bomb, Bezdek," said Dorwin frigidly.

  "Of course not--I was only speaking figuratively," said the movie-makerhastily. "I'm as much against war as anyone. But that's what makes theseinterplanetary movies great stuff. We can run in all the villains wewant--make them just as bad as we want. Audiences really like