"You wouldn't think when you see these things on the screen," said Mr. Furley, "that the fourth wall is the world itself, with the camera in the midst. We build up the three walls in the open air for the most part, and keep the actors in focus by means of those long strips of wood on the ground, over which they mustn't step. When they are ready we take them, but they have been rehearsing a long time. Some words, you notice, are being spoken or the time would be wrong and the actions wouldn't fit; we don't ask them to learn anything by heart, but merely get the sense. No actor need ever retire into private life any more because his memory or voice has gone: the cinema will employ him. "There's nothing you can't do with the cinema," he said. "For instance, suppose I want to show you run over by a steam-roller. I could do it so thoroughly as to make your wife shriek. First of all, I place you here and then the roller advances on you. I take photographs until the roller touches you. Then I stop the camera, lay on the floor a dummy figure, and take the roller advancing over that. I stop the camera again and place on the floor a brown-paper shape like a pressed-out man and I take the roller just passing off that. Then a lot of people crowd in, and I stop it while you take your place on the ground in the middle of them, and then I turn the wheel again and we see you restored to life. When the picture is exhibited it runs straight on as if there had been no breaks at all; but the breaks do it. It's the art of leaving out. The camera's good for anything; it's the new ideas that we want. "Another thing we want is English actors and actresses with a sense of gesture. The idiots, they stand there and deliver their speeches as if they were posts, and how do you suppose that comes out on the film? The result is that we have to get foreigners for all the best plays--Italians first of all--because they move their hands while they are speaking and convey their meaning. Our own actors can do certain things all right, but not the best emotional things, and the result is I'm now writing a series of purely English plays where only English stolidity is needed. Then they'll be at home." Mr. Furley showed me how some of the trick films are made. For example, one in which a box of bricks opened automatically, the bricks came out and built themselves into a house, and then unbuilt themselves and returned to the box.