"SOME months back two wealthy gentlemen where lunching at the Knickerbocker Hotel, in New York, where all movie magnates seem to make a habit of foregathering. They were trying to think of a book to ‘film.’ A pause. One suggested Victor Hugo’s ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame.’ ‘A grand sweet story! Some story! Some Punch! Some pep!’ A longer pause. ‘Say, why, in out film, shouldn’t that hunchback marry the beautiful gipsy chicken?’ ‘But, say, we can’t have that little pippin tied to a hunchback.’ ‘I got it, bo, we’ll get a Johns Hopkins guy to straighten him out on the operating table.’ ‘Say, you’re some artist, Al.’"

What’s Wrong with the Movies? by Aleister Crowley in Vanity Fair, Jul 1917.

"SOME months back two wealthy gentlemen where lunching at the Knickerbocker Hotel, in New York, where all movie magnates seem to make a habit of foregathering. They were trying to think of a book to ‘film.’ A pause. One suggested Victor Hugo’s ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame.’ ‘A grand sweet story! Some story! Some Punch! Some pep!’ A longer pause. ‘Say, why, in out film, shouldn’t that hunchback marry the beautiful gipsy chicken?’ ‘But, say, we can’t have that little pippin tied to a hunchback.’ ‘I got it, bo, we’ll get a Johns Hopkins guy to straighten him out on the operating table.’ ‘Say, you’re some artist, Al.’” [via]