Then we stick him on the film on a corner of the room, leaning up against the cardboard clock and looking at the children.  This attitude in the movies always indicates a secondary character of no importance.  His business is to look at the others and to indicate forgetfulness of self, incompetence, unimportance, vacuity, simplicity.  Note how this differs from the attitudes of important characters.  If a movie character—­one of importance—­is plotting or scheming, he seats himself at a little round table, drums on it with his fingers, and half closes one eye.  If he is being talked to, or having a letter or document or telegram read to him, he stands “facing full” and working his features up and down to indicate emotion sweeping over them.  If he is being “exposed” (which is done by pointing fingers at him), he hunches up like a snake in an angle of the room with both eyes half shut and his mouth set as if he had just eaten a lemon.  But if he has none of these things to express and is only in the scene as a background for the others, then he goes over and leans in an easy attitude against the tall cardboard clock.

That then is the place for Bartolomeo Colombo.  To the clock with him.

Now what comes next?

“...The young Christopher developed at an early age a passion for study, and especially for astronomy, geometry, geodesy, and the exact science of the day.”

Quite easy.  On spins the film.  Young Christopher in a garret room (all movie study is done in garrets).  The cardboard ceiling slopes within six inches of his head.  This shows that the boy never rises from his books.  He can’t.  On a table in front of him is a little globe and a pair of compasses.  Christopher spins the globe round.  Then he makes two circles with the compasses, one after the other, very carefully.  This is the recognised movie symbol for mathematical research.

So there we have Christopher—­poor, honest, studious, full of circles.

Now to the book again.

“...The young Columbus received his education at the monastery of the Franciscan monks at Genoa.  Here he spent seven years.”

Yes, but we can put that on the screen in seven seconds.

Turn on the film.

Movie Monastery—­exterior, done in grey cardboard—­ding, dong, ding, dong (man in the orchestra with triangle and stick)—­procession of movie friars—­faces more like thugs, but never mind—­they are friars because they walk two and two in a procession, singing out of hymn books.

Now for the book again.

“...Fra Giacomo, the prior of the monastery, delighted with the boy’s progress, encourages his studies.”

Wait a minute.

Fra Giacomo...  Mr. Edward Sims

Mr. Sims’s face, clean-shaved under a round hat fades in and out.  Then the picture goes on.  Movie monastery interior—­young Christopher, still at a table with compasses—­benevolent friar bending over him—­Christopher turns the compasses and looks up with a what-do-you-know-about-that look—­astonishment and delight of friar (registered by opening his eyes like a bull frog).  All this shows study, progress, application.  The friars are delighted with the boy.