In all the welter of film production one can hardly fail to be struck by the paganism of the average film entertainment: that is, if ever one pauses to think about such things. I do not, of course, refer to topical or interest films, but to the average dramatic photoplay. I see pictures six days a week, and I am frequently reminded of the words in the Catechism which tell us that we are prone to evil from our very childhood. I think film producers must have read this too; at any rate, they are sufficiently studious of human nature to realise that this is so—and to realise the commercial possibilities underlying the exploitation of this proneness. Knowing that there is a universal latent curiosity—an inquisitive interest—in the lower manifestations of human nature, the seamy side of life is depicted in such a manner as to pander to this, often in a very emphatic manner. The resultant atmosphere of the picture is called ‘entertainment value.’ Crime as depicted in order to impart ‘punch’ to the production. The film play is supposed to depict life in all its shades; probably it does — particularly the shades. Easy divorce is a commonplace on the screen, and in this respect the average film-maker displays a strange lack of consistency, for while on the one hand divorce is used as an easy and laudable way out of all manner of difficulties, both matrimonial and of the plot, on the other hand marriage is usually presented as the crowning act of a woman’s life, to be treated with greater seriousness, one would think, and given a fairer chance than is usually evidenced by the ease and even flippancy with which film characters are made to break their vows and start afresh—usually with the one who should obviously have been their first choice. Obvious, that is, to the audience; love in the film studio is very blind.