First, it must be good enough to make an impression on the distributors who buy it from the producer and sell it to the movie-theater owners who exhibit it. They must _think_, at least, that it is good. And to make them think that, it has got to have good selling-points such as were suggested a little way back, so that they can brag about it to the exhibitors and make the re-selling or renting of the prints easy. Second, it must be good enough so that when the exhibitor sees it, he will decide that his audiences will like it—or at least that enough people will like it to more than compensate him for the price he has to pay in rentals. Third, it must be good enough to satisfy the people who pay to get in to see the show, or they will be apt to stay away next time, so that in the end the exhibitor will lose money unless he shows better films. And in each one of these cases it mustn’t be _too_ good, or at least too good in a “highbrow” sense. It must have enough popular appeal, so that, collectively, millions of people will like it, in order to make it profitable for the exhibitor, and the distributor, and the producer. A picture was made in England from a story by Sir James Barrie, who wrote “Sentimental Tommy” and so many other fine books and plays. It was called “The Will.” It showed an old firm of lawyers in London, and a young couple that came to the office to be married. There was a “Little black spot” in the character of the young groom—a streak of mean selfishness. Throughout the lifetime of that couple it grew and grew, because it wasn’t weeded out, until in the end it made them both very unhappy, and even spoiled all their children’s lives. When he was a very old man, the fellow who was married at the beginning of the picture came back to the old lawyer’s office to make his will, and admitted that he had spoiled his life, and the lives of all those about him, through his failures to weed out “The little black spot” in time. You can see how different that picture is from most of those that you see, month after month, at your nearest movie-house. For one thing, it didn’t have any particular love-story, which more people like to see than anything else. For another thing, it has a sort of unhappy ending, which, in this country, relatively few people like to see. So, although the picture was beautifully produced, and although it was interesting as it went along and pointed a big moral quite without being “preachy,” no one bought it for this country. It was sent back to England. The distributors, who could have bought it for a song compared to what they have to pay for even the poorest pictures that are made here in America, were afraid of it, because they felt it would be hard to sell to exhibitors, who wouldn’t think enough people in their audiences would like it to make it profitable.