AUGUST 12TH, 1944:IN 1944 as the Allied and German armies fought over France, The Irish Timeswas also concerned about the influence of what an editorial had called "the scum of Hollywood's cheapest productions" on children, especially on poor children. A reporter was sent to assess the situation:
Last weekend I set out to measure the cinema’s influence on tomorrow’s citizens. I found that from 12 to 15 of the lesser-known city cinemas cater almost exclusively for children through the afternoon. The offspring of the more well-to-do parents are escorted to the more pretentious establishments, usually on Saturday evenings.
A minority of discerning parents place cinema-going in the category of a rare treat . . . It is obvious that the vast majority of parents do not fully appreciate the extent to which young minds may be moulded by the film. The houses known to the children as “the tuppeny flicks” receive the patronage of something like 300 youngsters apiece every afternoon, which means total daily attendances of nearly 4,000.
At 2.45 or 3pm those second-rate cinemas come to life – 50 or 60 frail wisps of humanity begin to trail into a pathetic queue, barefoot, thin and poorly clad. The talk is . . . hushed with expectancy.
Some days ago a broiling sun beat down on a typical queue of 50 boys and girls, aged from 10 to 14. The boy behind me in the queue appeared to be about 10-years-old, and he was in bare feet, patchy pants and badly mutilated shirt. A Woodbine drooped, gangster-fashion, from the corner of his mouth. Like the other children, he had come south from a web of tenements.
“Gene Autry, mister, and a smashin’ serial. Have you e’er a butt?” was his retort when I inquired about the programme.
Clustered around the lurid advertisements, the boys and girls showed remarkable film discernment: “Gene Autry’s no . . . good; too much love. The gangsters is the best . . . There’s a great war picture coming next week . . . the serial’s on again, it’s a smasher.”
“The . . . s full of fleas, my mother won’t let me go there any more,” from a girl clutching the hand of a five-year-old.
There seemed to be general agreement on the principal film’s lack of potentialities, and most of the young audience seemed to be attending only because the offerings of rival concerns had been exhausted. A look of the most profound scorn greeted my remark to one youngster that he might enjoy himself better in one of the city’s parks on such an afternoon . . .
There was a burst of cheering when the lights were dimmed, but the first picture was not altogether successful . . . Riding home victoriously with a smile and a song and a girl, Gene Autry was more impressive, and he received a tremendous ovation when he confounded the enemies of himself and of society . . .
The event of the evening was, undoubtedly, the serial . . . To the accompaniment of wild applause, it moved at a furious pace, embracing a breathtaking variety of crime and evil, but it stopped suddenly just when it seemed about to reach the pinnacle of excitement.
I counted some 30 instances of murder, violence, fire, explosions, hand-to-hand combat, “hijacking”, gang fighting, robbery and racketeering.
The exaggerated emphasis which one of the pictures placed on sex might be considered unsuitable for a youthful audience but, in fairness, it should be pointed out that love scenes did not seem to impress at all. One feature of the entire proceedings was the facility with which they could be followed, thereby naturally blunting the young appetite for good drama.
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