Last week in Manhattan, they laid the cornerstone of a new cinema-film exchange, a place where the commercial envoys of millions of people will go to buy or rent for them the latest articles in synthetic culture. At such ceremonies, important people gather—"producers" worth scads of money, "artists" whose faces are fabulous fortunes when properly painted, "directors" who have popular psychology minced up and pigeonholed to the last sentimental convulsion over a glycerine tear, "publicity directors" who have utterly exhausted all superlatives in describing the achievements of the rest.
Such folks attended last...
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