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BEHIND THE MOTION
PICTURE SCREEN
T TOW the Scenario Writer, Director,
JL J. Cameraman, Scene Painter and
Carpenter, Laboratory Man, Art
Director, Property Man, Electrician,
Projector Operator and Others Contribute
Their Share of Work Toward the Real-
ization of the Wonderful Photoplays of
Today; and How the Motion Picture is
Rapidly Extending Into Many Fields
Aside from that of Entertainment
BY
AUSTIN C. LESC ARBOUR A
Second Edition
Over 300 Illustrations
SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY
MUNN & COMPANY
NEW YORK
1921
Copyright 1919 by
SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO.
All Itighls Reserved
Ri'gBts'df Translation Reserved, including Translations
* 4 in Scandinavian Languages
Printed in the United States of America
Press of ANDREW H. KELLOGG Co.
New York City
INTRODUCTION
IN preparing this work the author has endeavored
to steer a literary course midway between the
deeply technical books intended for those actively
engaged in the motion-picture industry, and the
popular works written for those seeking entertain-
ment rather than information. Both those classes of
works have their missions and perform them most
admirably, to be sure. But for the film devotee of a
more serious turn of mind who would ask pertinent
questions and expect understandable answers con-
cerning w r hat takes place behind the motion-picture
screen, and who would be unable or unwilling to turn
to the technical volumes with their formidable ver-
biage, this book has been written with the fondest
hopes that it will fulfill a long- felt want.
Every important phase of motion pictures has been
touched upon, more or less, depending upon its rela-
tive value to the entire art. Technicalities have con-
sistently been avoided. It has been the aim to lay a
general foundation for cinematographic knowledge,
so that the reader, after mastering these pages, can
turn to the more exhaustive works which have here-
tofore been barred to him as a layman.
571 4H I
Introduction
In explaining special forms of motion pictures, the
author has made use of certain systems. It is not to
be assumed that these are recommended or selected
solely on their merits from among all other similar
systems. Indeed, they have been selected either be-
cause their general characteristics serve to make
them typical of motion pictures of that particular
category, or because their operation lends itself best
to simple explanation.
The author is deeply indebted to Mr. Maurice
Schoenbaum of New York City, an authority on do-
mestic and foreign cinematography, who has been
kind enough to go over the manuscript to insure ac-
curacy of the more technical portions of this book.
Also is the author deeply indebted to the various
film producing companies, particularly those men-
tioned on another page, through whose generosity
and cooperation this book is so profusely and fit-
tingly illustrated.
New York, March 1st, 1919,
CONTENTS
Pages
CHAPTER I.
Working Plans of the Motion Picture 2- 16
CHAPTER II.
The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects 18-32
CHAPTER III.
The Real Role of the Picture Actor 34-62
CHAPTER IV.
The Motion-Picture Camera 64- 86
CHAPTER V.
The Cameraman and His Art 88-106
CHAPTER VI.
In the Land of Make Believe 108-130
CHAPTER VII.
The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture 132-160
CHAPTER VIII.
The Generals of Shadowland 162-182
CHAPTER IX.
Tricks of the Screen 184-202
CHAPTER X.
From the Camera to the Screen 204-222
CHAPTER XI.
Reporters of the Screen 224-240
CHAPTER XII.
Putting It on the Screen 242-258
CHAPTER XIII.
Pictures in Natural Colors.. 260-276
CONTENT S Continued
Pages
CHAPTER XIV.
Filming the World Invisible 278-288
CHAPTER XV.
Pictures that Talk and Sing 290-300
CHAPTER XVI.
Cartoons that Move and Sculpture that Lives 302-322
CHAPTER XVII.
Motion Pictures in Strange Fields 324-358
CHAPTER XVIII.
Motion Pictures in the Home and Business 360-380
CHAPTER XIX.
The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art 382-394
CHAPTER XX.
The Future of the Motion Picture 396-420
CREDIT TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE"
Credit is due the following firms and individuals for their whole-hearted
co-operation in illustrating this work:
Famous Players-Lasky Corporation
Vitagraph Company of America
W. W. Hodkinson Corporation
Mutual Film Corporation
Arrow Film Corporation
Fox Film Corporation
Triangle Film Corporation
Educational Films Corporation
Universal Film Manufacturing Co.
Eugene Lauste
Wharton Brothers
Select Pictures
Goldwyn Distributing Corporation
Pathe Exchange
Metro Pictures Corporation
Selznick Pictures Corporation
World Film Corporation
Gaumont
Essanay
Prizma Company
American Film Company
International Film Service
and many others in the divers fields of cinematography.
CHAPTER I.
WORKING PLANS OF THE
MOTION PICTURE
riTJHE STORY is the soul of the photoplay. It is the
i very foundation upon which is erected the elaborate
series of scenes which makes up the finished film.
A photoplay is judged good or poor by the story it tells;
for, after all, it is the story which interests the audience.
The direction, acting and photography are important,
to be sure; but they are more or less a matter of routine,
depending for their success upon the foundation which is
given them to build upon. And to cater to the whims of a
fickle and blase public, the screen scribes will ever be
industriously prospecting in many fields for those golden
nuggets of the photoplay plots.
Working Plans of the Motion Picture
EVERYTHING must start with an idea. After the idea
comes the plan, more or less complete but gradually
perfected as the work progresses. So with motion pic-
tures; there must first be an idea or plot for a film story, fol-
lowed by a more or less complete set of plans for the actual
production.
The plans for motion pictures are known as scenarios and are
written by scenario writers. A scenario is nothing more than
a story in skeleton form. First it tells in its synopsis what the
story is about, gives the cast of the photoplay in question and,
lastly, outlines the action of each scene in the proper order.
Titles and inserts such as letters and telegrams are included in
the scenario; for it is this set of plans which guides the director
in his work of producing the photoplay.
THE AUTHOR OF THE PHOTOPLAY SCRIPT
The writing of scenarios is at once simple and difficult. To
some it seems quite natural to tell stories in outline or action
form; and without having had any previous experience in liter-
ary work, they succeed in writing successful scenarios from their
very start in this branch of endeavor. To others who have had
years of training in journalism and in fiction writing, .a scenario
always remains an unmastered yet tempting undertaking.
It is no doubt the seemingly simple form of the scenario that
tempts so many persons to try their hand at this kind of writing.
Contrasted with the average short story, the scenario appears to
be mere child's play ; for there is no dialogue, no lengthy descrip-
tions and no great command of elegant English required in pre-
paring the plan for a photoplay.
But the fact that is overlooked at first is that the scenario,
simple as it may seem, must tell a story in action only. The
novelist can do much with lengthy descriptions. He can have
his reader read the innermost thoughts of any of his characters.
His dialogue can carry the story along in an attractive and ef-
fective manner when the action might be weak and unconvincing.
In sharp contradistinction the motion picture, and therefore the
scenario, must tell a story entirely by action. True, there are
titles; but the practice is, and should be, to have as few titles
as possible, for the audience wants to see pictures and not titles.
Working Plans of the Motion Picture
So the scenario is a skeleton story told in action only. Some
writers have the peculiar knack of telling stories in this manner,
while others have not the knack and try as they may they will
never acquire it. It is the same state of affairs as may be found
in the world of artists, where one man may be a good cartoonist,
telling his story in rough, outline form, and the other a skilled
artist who tells his story in the form of an elaborate oil painting.
To the first the work of the second is wonderful; he can never
hope to do that kind of art work. And to the second the car-
toons of the first, crude yet so effective in telling a story, seem
the products of an ingenious mind; the skilled artist admits that
he lacks the ability to do such clever work.
The average scenario writer starts out with a plot around
which he works up a series of incidents, just the same as the au-
thor of a novel. But instead of describing each of his characters
and describing the action of the story, with here and there a bit
of dialogue to connect the various parts together, the scenario
writer looks upon his story as a series of pictures. The idea must
be reduced to action, and the action must be divided into scenes,
so arranged that they will tell the story with here and there a
title or insert. So proficient are some photoplay authors that
they can visualize an idea in motion-picture form, accepting
certain bits of action and rejecting others while turning the plans
over in their mind before consigning them to paper. Indeed, in
many instances the scenario writers can actually determine in this
manner how much action they can get into each scene so that the
entire production will come within a prescribed length.
ESSENTIALS OF A SCENARIO
Like the blueprint of an architect, the scenario must tell the
director how to go about his work. There is this difference, how-
ever, that in the case of the latter he does not have to follow
the scenario to the letter: here and there, where the circumstances
and his experience and judgment dictate, he can alter the action
in order to produce a better picture. Very rarely is a scenario
strictly followed out; for the director, having the actual work
of production in hand, can usually improve upon many situa-
tions outlined in the plans.
Reduced to essentials, then, a scenario or script is generally
LEADING LADY AND HER DIRECTOR DISCUSSING A BIT OF ACTION
CALLED FOR BY THE SCENARIO
6 Working Plans of the Motion Picture
composed of a cast of characters with a brief description of each ;
a brief but clear synopsis of the story; and a list of scenes which,
when filmed, are to tell the story in photoplay form. Thus, in
the case of a comedy photoplay, the arrangement of the scenario
would be about as follows:
Austin C. Lescarboura, Submitted at your
10 Sherman Avenue, Usual Rates.
Inwood, New York City.
THE SUCCESSFUL FAILURE
Percival Farnsworth, a pampered child of the wealthiest fam-
ily in Hamville, at the age of 25 years, is still groping around for
something to do. His father has placed him in the local bank,
the department store, the electric light company and in other
local organizations; but the son soon tires of all these things.
He is madly in love with Anita, daughter of Hamville's pros-
perous brewer, Schulteis. A motion-picture company comes to
town. Percival is interested in their work, and then and there
decides to become a motion-picture producer.
He seeks capital with which to buy the necessary equipment.
His father, discouraged long ago, turns him down. He seeks the
girl's father, but gets no sympathy. Finally, he approaches Abe
Hinsley, the miser of the town, by interesting Kinsley's daugh-
ter, Mary, a would-be scenario writer, in the project. He offers
to produce one of her scripts, and she in return gets the required
money from her father. Percy goes to the city, purchases his
equipment, and starts his studio in Hamville. He employs local
talent throughout, for it is the proud boast of this Hamville
Film Corporation that the film is "Made in Hamville."
But amateur motion-picture producers have much to learn.
All kinds of ridiculous mistakes are made, both photographically
and in the staging. Throughout, the staging of the pictures is
ludicrous. Finally, the five-reel feature a drama entitled "In
the Days of Old When Knights Were Bold," is completed.
Percival starts out proudly for the city. He goes to the leading
film company and offers his feature. He is told by the office boy
WHEN THE SCENARIO CALLS FOR A THRILLING RAILROAD STORY, THE
FILM COMPANY HIRES A RAILROAD
Working Plans of the Motion Picture
to leave his film and to report in about two hours, so as to give
the directors a chance to look it over. The Giant Film Company
directors go into the projection room to view the production.
They roar. The film is certainly hopeless. But Wainright, one
of their younger directors, suddenly tells the men that the pro-
duction should be bought because of its possibilities. The others
are thunderstruck at what they consider a foolish suggestion.
Wainright explains his scheme for converting the ridiculous film
into a roaring comedy. When Percival comes back that after-
noon, Wainright in all seriousness informs him that the film is
accepted. Just as he is handing the check to Percival, he asks
whether Percival would mind if the Giant Film Company went
out to Hamville to get the photographs of the youthful director
and his company in action. Percival tells them to go ahead. In
this manner an appropriate opening and ending is obtained for the
drama turned comedy.
Three months hence a Broadway audience is splitting its sides
laughing over the five-reel comedy, "Reeling the Drama in Ham-
ville."
CHARACTERS
PERCIVAL FARNSWORTH, the youthful son of wealthy folks; a
jack of all trades and master of none.
ROBERT G. FARNSWORTH, father of the hero.
ELIZABETH FARNSWORTH, mother of the hero.
ANITA SCHULTEIS, daughter of the town brewer and very much
in love with and very much loved by Percival.
RUPRECHT SCHULTEIS, brewer, father of Anita, and a firm be-
liever in boys making their own way in this world.
ABE KINSLEY, the town miser who is greatly influenced by hi?
daughter.
MARY HINSLEY, daughter of Abe and a would-be scenario
writer.
PAUL WAINRIGHT, young director of the Giant Film Company.
Villagers, amateur actors, and directors in the offices of the film
company.
LOCALE
For the most part the scenes are laid in the typical country
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10 Working Plans of the Motion Picture
town of Hamville. A few scenes are laid in a large city, prefer-
ably New York or Chicago.
SCENES
SCENE L Subtitle: Twelve-thirty and Percival had no
thought of departing.
Parlor in home of the Schulteis family. Percival is
holding hands with Anita who, from time to time,
yawns. Hall clock in the background points to
12.30.
SCENE 2. Head of stairs on next floor. Schulteis comes out of
bedroom, clad in pajamas and bath robe. Looks at
watch and shakes head angrily. Starts downstairs.
SCENE 3. Same as No. 1. Father comes downstairs and into
living room, while lovers are so intent in each other
that they do not see him approach. They pay no
attention to him. Finally, he comes between them
on the sofa and turns angrily toward Percival.
Subtitle: "Don't you know when to go home. Fur-
thermore, I might as well tell you now that until you
can find a job and become a man, you might as well
stop calling on my daughter!"
Percival is taken unawares. Does not answer but
starts fidgeting about. Gets up and walks out to
hall and gets his hat and coat. Bids Anita good night
but is visibly angry with her father, who then scolds
her and sends her upstairs to bed.
SCENE 4- Living room in Farnsworth home. Father is wait-
ing for his son. Clock on mantlepiece (close-up)
indicates 1.30. Son walks in, hangs hat and coat on
rack in hall at rear of stage. Sees his father and
walks in. Father drops his newspaper and stands
up. Looks angrily at son.
Subtitle: A fine hour for you to come home, young
man.
Son begins to explain where he was. Father shakes
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12 Working Plans of the Motion Picture
head. Reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out
an envelope, which he hands to son, who opens it
and pulls out a letter which he unfolds and reads.
Subtitle Letter Form: January 5th, 1918. Dear
Mr. Farnsworth: This is to inform you that we
have been obliged to discharge your son, Percival,
because we found him utterly unsuited to our work.
He appears to have no taste or inclination for elec-
trical work, and as much as we should like to give
him the training you desire, we believe it would
only be time wasted. Yours very truly, Hamville
Utilities Company.
And so the idea is carried out, scene by scene.
Scenarios follow no absolute rule, and there are many varia-
tions as can well be imagined. In fact, of late the majority of
producing concerns prefer to work from a synopsis only, rather
than from a complete scenario which an outsider might submit.
For, having a better understanding of the requirements and the
limitations of the studio, the inside scenario writers or editors
are in a far better position to prepare the scenario than the aver-
age free lance. . Given the idea or synopsis, they can set to work
on a script which will come pretty close to meeting the demands
of the directors with the minimum of changes in actual produc-
tion.
Thus if there is a certain quality or distinguishing feature
about the productions of any given producer, it is due to the fact
that the scenarios are all prepared inside by staff writers or
editors. Many of the foremost producers have long since given
up the plan of purchasing outside material, although the best
policy appears to be that of accepting ideas for photoplays and
then preparing the scenarios inside.
Books and novels offer a rich field of ideas to the motion-
picture producer. A considerable proportion of the present pho-
toplays are taken from well-known works and magazines, and
it is due to the skill of a staff scenario writer that these novels
and stories make such excellent films; for skilled scenario
writers have the knack of extracting those features of any given
IN A RECENT SCRIPT THE AUTHOR CALLED FOR THE SINKING OF THE
LUSITANIA WITH ALL ITS HORRORS AND
14 Working Plans of the Motion Picture
story which will make the strongest photoplay, and these they
weave into an interesting screen pattern. It is largely due to this
ability that the independent or free-lance scenario writer no
longer has the opportunity he had formerly.
The introduction of the multi-reel feature too, has had a
marked affect on the scenario market. Formerly, when pro-
ducers were making single-reel subjects, many more scenarios
were required; and because of the small expenses involved in
producing photoplays, they were not so particular as to the
merits of the story submitted. But today, with tens of thousands
of dollars being expended for a single five-reel production, it is
quite obvious that nothing but the best of plots can receive even
preliminary consideration.
PRODUCTIONS WHICH ARE MADE UP AS THEY GO
The most difficult scenario is the comedy. It is comparatively
easy to write a film story which will bring tears to the eyes of the
audience, but it is not always possible to get a laugh from the
same audience. The creating of humorous situations calls for
considerable thought; and even an idea which seems laugh-pro-
voking in script form is apt to fail completely when projected
on the screen.
So it is the practice of leading comedy producers to work
almost without a script. That is to say, their scenarios are little
more than the general outline of the comedy. From the first
scene to the last the players themselves and the director to some
extent are depended upon to create comical situations, as the
mood strikes them, in order that the entire production will be a
steady series of laughs. Indeed, the whole success of a comedy
depends upon this one factor: keeping the audience laughing so
that they have no time to think about the incongruities of the
story. Almost any comedy, if it were examined in detail, would
prove so utterly foolish as to be rather a drama than a comedy ;
but when flashed at the rate of sixteen pictures per second, with
one scene following fast on the heels of another, the audience
simply has no time to think. It merely laughs at the humorous
situations here and there.
And it is not often possible to write a complete comedy
scenario. In producing a comedy the actors generally find it
THE LUSITANIA WAS CONSTRUCTED OF WOOD, COMPO-BOARD AND CAN-
VAS ON A VACANT LOT IN THE BRONX, NEW YORK CITY
16 Working Plans of the Motion Picture
necessary to have light acting here and there to connect up the
main action. This light acting or comedy is generally taken care
of by the old-time comedians about the studio, who are employed
for just such purposes. They have a large number of tricks and
space fillers which they bring into play, and in this manner give
the leading actors ample time between scenes to rest up and again
store up the humor which must be part of them in executing their
roles.
Broadly speaking, therefore, most comedy films are practically
produced as they go.
CHAPTER II.
THE ARTIST WHO PAINTS
THE FILM SUBJECTS
CONSIDER the photoplay as a painting. The
players or figures appear on the screen in various bits
of action. The picture, unlike those on canvas, is
animated; and it changes from scene to scene in telling
its story. But who paints this picture? Who places the
figures about and who gives them the proper animation?
The artist is none other than the director, who takes the
author's script and translates the written story into the
animated tableau which we call the photoplay. He is the
directing genius of the films. He makes the fame of
many a screen player. His imprint is evident in
many of his players, long after they leave his fold. All of
which is mentioned here in order properly to introduce
the big man behind the screen the director.
IS The Artist Who Paint* the Film Subjects
SO NATURALLY do the screen players go through their
parts that the audience is generally convinced that they are
entirely responsible for the success of the photoplay. In-
deed, it appears that the players are acting their parts with the
greatest of ease; which accounts, in large measure, for the thou-
sands of young men and young women and even little tots who
would be screen stars.
But this is all an illusion. The truth of the matter is that the
actors have been merely carrying out the directions of a master
mind, which in this case is that of the director. In the produc-
tion of a photoplay the director is entirely responsible for its
success or failure, granted that the material he has to work with
his cast is satisfactory. For his is the task of staging each
scene, telling the actors just what they are to do, showing them
how to do it in many instances, and then seeing that they do it
well before the camera records the action. Contrary to what the
screen impression may be, the director is the man who pulls the
strings; the actors are generally automatons. Or to use another
analogy: they are as clay in the hands of a -sculptor or paint at
the tip of the artist's brush. He moulds them into any desired
shape called for by the scenario in the one case, and places and
blends them on his canvas to conform with the story he ft telling,
in the other.
THE ACTOR AND THE DIRECTOR
But it is not the author's intention to imply that motion-picture
actors do not have to think for themselves, and that their quali-
fications can be of a low order. As a matter of fact the screen
requires the best of actors; for the requirements, differing as
they do from those of the legitimate stage, are nevertheless just
as exacting, if not more so.
What is generally overlooked in this connection is that the
legitimate stage player also has at some time or other been en-
tirely under the direction of a master mind. When the play was
first rehearsed, the producer carefully took up each line of the
production and drilled each player in his or her part until the co-
ordinated efforts of all the players went to make a perfect whole.
Once each player mastered his or her part, of course, the direc-
tion was no longer required, hence was removed by the time the
actors went out before their audience.
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20 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
So in motion pictures, the director is necessary in order to
coach each player and to co-ordinate the efforts of the entire cast.
Out in front of the stage or set, the director can study and ar-
range the action in order that it will appear to the best advantage
when projected on the screen. In truth, part and parcel of the
training of every director is a good knowledge of the motion-
picture camera; he knows what are the limitations and possibili-
ties of film photography just as well as the cameraman at his
side.
Screen players there are who have the ability to act and direct
at the same time. But of the hundreds of leading players of the
films, one can count on the fingers of one's two hands the players
who can play in and direct their own productions.
It is far more common for a talented screen player to aid the
director materially in his work. For instance, in the case of a
well-known young lady who heads her own producing company,
she not only goes over the scenario with her director and suggests
changes and improvements here and there, but she actually
directs herself in difficult parts of a given photoplay. One of her
favorite methods is to have a full-length mirror placed in front
of her, so that she can rehearse herself time and again until she
is satisfied with her interpretation of the scenario writer's idea.
Then the mirror is removed and the cameraman "shoots" the
scene.
All of which is by way of making clear that the relationship
between director and actor is most friendly. Film actors realize
that they can only produce their best work when guided by an
experienced director.
WHAT MAKES A DIRECTOR?
There is no sure road to the position of director with a motion-
picture organization. Some directors have quite naturally drifted
from the legitimate stage to motion-picture acting and then to
the direction of productions. That seems to be the most common
road to this profession. But then there are others who have
drifted right into the directing end from other professions such
as engineering or medicine, and even from military life. One
of the leading directors of the present time became a director
without previous screen experience: he had been conducting a
ABOVE: DIRECTING A SCENE ABOARD A SHIP. BELOW: GIVING
INSTRUCTIONS TO THE CAMERAMAN
22 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
motion-picture theater when he came to the conclusion that he
would rather produce than exhibit films. So he applied to a lead-
ing concern, and in a short time was placed in charge of a com-
pany of players. His career has been meteoric. Today he is the
owner of a large producing concern which bears his name.
A good director must be a capable executive. It is therefore
not strange to find many of the present directors ex-Army men.
Used to handling men, these directors make out well in their
new-found profession. Then again, artists and sculptors make
excellent directors, for after all the directing of a screen play is
merely the skillful placing and animating of the characters
so that they will form pretty and convincing pictures pictures
which will tell their story. Newspaper men and writers, too,
make good directors, for they know the elements of story telling.
Whether they work with photographs or words, the essentials of
story telling remain the same; for it is simply a change in the
medium of expression.
The first step in directing a photoplay is to study the scenario.
As a general rule the director receives a scenario for considera-
tion; and if, after reading it through, he believes it has possi-
bilities, he reports to the scenario editor to that effect. Perhaps
it requires certain changes to improve the action. At any rate,
the director exercises considerable authority over the selection
and arrangement of a scenario, since he is the one who must con-
vert it into a successful screen play. And the theme is the very
soul of any screen play.
There are directors who write most of their plays. Beginning
with a simple plot, they work up a series of events which, when
joined together, make a good photoplay. The combination of
directorial and writing abilities is ideal in the extreme, for then
the same mind can conceive of an idea and carry it through to
realization. No one will gainsay that this is a far better plan
than to have one mind prepare the story and another interpret
it. And films written and produced by the same mind are gen-
erally proof of the merits of this combination of talents.
Once the scenario is prepared for the director, he has time to
study it in detail and make preparations for its production. The
practice in most companies is to give the scenario for the next
production to the director, several weeks in advance, while he
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is still working on the preceding production. In this way he has
plenty of time to turn the story over in his mind, talk it over with
his leading actors, and arrange for the indoor and outdoor scenes.
If there are special sets to be erected, he can give the order to the
technical director who is in charge of this work; and likewise, if
special costumes are required, he can give the order to the ward-
robe department for such garments as he may need.
Once through with the production he has had in hand, he im-,
mediately turns to the new one. By now he has formulated a
broad working scheme, so that he is prepared to take his players
out of the studio and grounds and to some distant spot or "loca-
tion" for the filming of certain scenes, or film the indoor scenes
first.
It must be perfectly obvious to all who have given some
thought to photoplay productions, that all the scenes making use
of the same background or "location" must be taken at the
one time. Otherwise one could well imagine the difficulty of pro-
ducing a scenario as written; that is to say, in the order of
sequence. For instance: Scene No. 1 might be a room in a flat.
Scene 2 might be the corner saloon. Scene 3, say, a railroad yard.
Scene 4, the room in the flat. Scene 5, the same background as
No. 2. Scene 6, the same as No. 1. Why, then, take them in rota-
tion and oblige the players, director and cameraman to go from
place to place when all the scenes with the same background
could be taken at one time? Long ago the picture producers
came to the common-sense idea of taking all scenes with the same
background at one time no matter if, according to the story,
there are intervals of many years between any two or not.
The elaborated working scenario generally has a list of back-
grounds and the numbers of the scenes which make use of each
background. The director decides where and when he will film
each batch of scenes. On clear days he takes his company afield
or out "on location,' while on cloudy and stormy days he works
on the indoor stage, making his "interiors."
THE BUSINESS. OF FILMING A SCENE
While the leading man and lady by now have a good idea of
the story that is to be produced, the cast as a whole generally has
to have the story explained. Right here, however, are to be
IS
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26 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
found two totally different schools of directors: the average
director usually explains the film story to his players in order
that they will understand the relation of any given scene to the
entire photoplay ; but there is another type of director, the abso-
lute disciplinarian type, we might call him, who believes in keep-
ing the players in total ignorance as to the film story. The plea
of the latter school of directors is that the players, if uninformed
as to the theme of the play, are more apt to follow directions with
great fidelity; whereas, if they were told the nature of the play,
they would be tempted here and there to introduce some of their
own interpretations and thus fail to work in absolute "concert
with the director. As to the merits of the two schools, the
results apparently indicate that it is largely a matter of opinion.
In either event the director informs his players at the begin-
ning of each scene what the immediate action is to be. He tells
his players how to act their respective roles, with particular
suggestions when needed. Then he puts the players through the
action once, while he scans every move. Perhaps this rehearsal
may be satisfactory the first time; but as likely as not he has
corrections to make and the action starts all over again. While
the players go through their parts he stands behind the camera
and coaches them. Sometimes the action is so simple that no
rehearsal is necessary; but as a general thing it is rehearsed a
number of times before it is filmed.
Once the director is satisfied with the way his players in-
terpret a scene, he calls for the lights (if the scene is in the studio)
and gives the order to the cameraman to film the action. At
the command " Action! Camera! Go!" the players start work
as if electrified, while the cameraman cranks away. "Cut!" is
the usual command which orders the cameraman to stop and the
scene is considered finished. Even while the filming is taking
place the director often coaches his players; and it is a rare
tribute to the players that they are able to follow out such sug-
gestions even while acting for the camera, without betraying
any signs of coaching on the screen.
Scene after scene the director stages and has filmed, while all
the time his negative film is piling up in the fireproof vaults.
He keeps careful record of what he has taken and what remains
to be taken; and at last, despite jumping from one part of the
ABOVE: DIRECTING A THRILLING WATER SCENE. BELOW: WHEN
THE VILLAIN PEEPS "DOWNSTAIRS"
28 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
story to the other producing a scene at the very end, then the
opening, then a scene just before the climax, then an early scene
he finally succeeds in closing up the gaps and completing the
story.
One thing that must be watched every moment of the time
when producing a film is the so-called continuity. By taking the
scenes in what appears a haphazard and careless manner and yet,
in truth, is the most practical way, errors of the most foolish sort
often creep into certain scenes despite the utmost vigilance. As
an example: In one scene, an interior, a player is depicted leav-
ing the room in a plain dress, while in the next scene, when the
film is joined together, the same player is shown coming out on
the porch wearing an apron. Such errors must be avoided, for
they are quickly detected by the keen-eyed audience of today
and cause no end of ridicule and loss of prestige.
EDITING THE PHOTOPLAY
Now the director turns his attention to the assembling of his
various scenes. Again in this as in other phases of cinematog-
raphy, there are no set rules. Each company has its own method
of procedure, although they all lead to the same results.
No matter how capable may have been the actors and how
excellent the direction of the photoplay, its success is neverthe-
less at stake in the cutting room where it is edited. Every scene
must be gone over with a view to trimming unnecessary action,
since this only serves to bore the audience, although at the time
the scene was filmed the superfluous action may have seemed
quite necessary to the director. In the trimming operation much
film is thrown away. For the average 5,000- foot feature film at
least 10,000 feet of negative film may be exposed ; yet the greatly
curtailed production which the public sees always appears quite
complete. In gigantic productions the wastage is tremendous;
in one spectacular photoplay a total of 110,000 feet of negative
was exposed, of which but 10,000 feet was used in -the screen
version.
But all the film thrown out of a picture is not wasted. Pro-
gressive producers often make use of the so-called cut-outs in
making other features, especially when a well-known player is
featured.
ABOVE;
DIRECTING A LARGE OUTDOOR SCENE.
A SCENE "ON LOCATION"
BELOW: DIRECTING
30 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
One excellent method of editing film is to give the girl as-
semblers a layout which they follow, cementing the various strips
in their proper order with the titles represented merely by num-
bers, corresponding to numbered titles on a sheet of paper. The
film, either in more or less complete form, is then projected on a
screen, while a clerk reads off the title as the corresponding
number is thrown on the screen. In this manner the director can
view his own work, suggesting alterations here and there and
making any changes he wishes in his titles before they are actu-
ally set up in type and photographed. In large organizations the
film is generally reviewed by other directors, including the head
producer, who freely offer their suggestions and criticisms. It
is here that any inconsistencies or scenes which fall below the
required standard are detected and ordered remade.
Once approved of, the master reel is made up and is then used
as the standard for the assembly of the numerous copies by deft-
fingered girl assemblers.
THE DIRECTOR IS BECOMING A SPECIALIST
With the gradual improvement in photoplay production,
marked changes have perforce taken place in the personnel of
producing concerns. That is to say, whereas the director of the
early days did pretty nearly everything from painting his own
scenery to turning the camera crank, the profession has become
highly specialized of late years.
Not so long ago the director supervised the painting and
building of every set required in his production. He had to be
posted on history, architecture, customs of foreign lands, and
other details connected with the accurate portrayal of scenes out
of the ordinary. Your director of today, however, leaves these
details to the art director or technical director, in whose province
these duties naturally fall. He merely tells the technical director
what the scenario calls for, and the latter attends to the rest.
And if present-day films represent the acme of accuracy in their
divers portrayals, it is largely because the technical director is
on the job.
Your director of bygone days was wont to ride about in a fast
automobile, seeking his own locations. He spent much time in
these searches, for he had no elaborate list of locations neatly and
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'32 The Artist Who Paints the Film Subjects
conveniently indexed. Today he tells the location man what he
wants. And said gentleman goes to his files and hunts up his
selections of the category in question. Perhaps he has a dozen
locations of that particular nature, and as likely as not he has
snapshots of each. These he presents to the director, who can
make his selection without spending valuable time in searching
on his own account.
Then too your director used to select his own players, one by
one, from among the hundreds who will forever flock to the
studio every day that films are made. If he needed Irish labor-
ers, policemen, soldiers, nurse-girls, nuns, circus hands or butlers,
he personally went among the would-be filmites and selected such
persons as suited his immediate requirements. Now he goes to a
casting director. He tells him what he will require the next day.
The casting director looks up his types in a card index system. A
post card or telephone call brings the various types to the casting
room the next day, and they are sent to the director.
So in every other matter the director has had those extra details
taken away from him, until presently his task is purely one of
directing the players under his direct charge. There are spe-
cialists at his beck and call for all the other phases of the film
producing business. And being withal a practical man, he is not
slow to make the utmost use of them.
Such, then, is the director, the man behind the screen. He
makes the photoplay. Yet how often does the audience give him
a moment's thought?
CHAPTER III.
THE REAL ROLE OF THE
PICTURE ACTOR
EEN acting and stage acting arc two totally
different things. There is as much art in one as there
is in the other; and accordingly the honors should
be about evenly divided. With the development of the
photoplay from its crude beginnings to its present high
state of perfection, more and more has been expected of the
screen actor. Today none but the best artists of the
histrionic art is admitted to the screen stage. But the
screen star is not the only one concerned in producing a
photoplay; nor is he or she entitled to all the credit. The
screen player is but a part of the photoplay organization.
34 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
ALWAYS will the actor occupy first place in the minds and
hearts of the screen audience. It is unavoidable. For,
after all, it is the leading player or "star" and his or her
supporting players who appear before the audience and public.
They are the photoplay.
In the pioneer photoplays the actors were generally hired for
each picture at so much per day or per week a sum which, in
most instances, would hardly be acceptable to an "extra" today.
Players came and went from one picture to the next ; and in con-
sequence the screen public never became "acquainted" with in-
dividual players. Those were the days when films were known
by their trade marks and not by their players.
Then, with better direction and an all-round improvement in
the photoplay art, certain accomplished players soon forged
ahead to the very forefront of the screen. The public began to
take notice. Questions were asked, few at first, but more numer-
ous and persistent as time went on. Everyone wanted to know
who was the little blonde in a certain brand of pictures ; and who
was the tall, slender man in such and such a picture; and who
played the role of a Confederate Colonel in a certain Civil War
photoplay, and so on.
The more progressive producers did not hesitate to give all the
information asked for. Here and there certain producers obsti-
nately refused to do so, assuming the attitude that it was none
of the public's business in the first place, and in the second it
might lead to making certain players famous and hence attractive
to other producers.
At about this time the first of the so-called "fan" magazines,
or periodicals appealing to the motion-picture devotees, began
to appear for the purpose of bringing the screen audience into
more intimate contact with the screen players.
So it came about that certain players became famous. The
independent producers, as distinguished from the old established
companies, operating under license granted by a corporation hold-
ing important basic patents which debarred all would-be pro-
ducers for a long time, immediately catered to the public in the
matter of giving information. At a time when only certain for-
eign films were offered with a cast or list of players, certain of
our independent producers came out with casts for each of their
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36 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
films. The idea was successful from the first, and one by one the
producers came around to it.
DIVIDING UP THE CREDIT ALL AROUND
With the advent of the so-called feature film, the "star" of the
screen came into existence. Instead of offering a film under a
trade mark or name, the practice soon got to be the offering of a
photoplay under the name of a well-known player. And this
very practice started the great war among producers for "stars,"
or rather, "names."
A certain young man conceived the idea of producing multiple
reel photoplays, each introducing some well-known "star" of the
legitimate stage. But he was confronted by the fact that the
foremost actors and actresses considered it far below their posi-
tion to act in the "movies." Finally he made up his mind to
induce the greatest player in the world to appear before his
camera in order to establish a precedent which every actor and
actress could sooner or later take advantage of. So he went
to France and induced the great Sarah Bernhardt herself to play
the part of Queen Elizabeth in a historical photoplay.
Of course, no player could refuse to appear in motion pictures
after the "Divine Sarah" had given her approval in full. One
by one of the greatest names in the world of players appeared
before the camera. And finally, the public became so accustomed
to famous stage names that every photoplay of the feature
variety was introduced solely on the drawing value of the leading
player; that is to say, Mr. John Jones (in very small type)
presents HERBERT COGSWELL APPLEBY (in gigantic type)
in the recent stage success, "Married Without Knowing It" (in
fair sized type) !
Today we have the "star" system, as it is known among pro-
ducers themselves. Everything revolves about the "star." Pro-
ducers scramble over one another, literally speaking, in order to
obtain the greatest "stars." True, many "stars" have ability of
the highest kind ; but it is equally within the confines of truth to
call attention to many so-called "stars" who possess little ability.
Such "stars" are of the synthetic variety : they have been created
mostly through hard working press agents and capable directors.
One result of the present "star" system is to exploit the "star"
ABOVE: DIRECTOR AND ACTRESS TALKING IT OVER. BELOW: A
PRACTICAL DEMONSTRATION BY THE DIRECTOR
38 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
of a feature play to a point where the photoplay is ridiculous.
The supporting players are always kept in the background; and,
indeed, the picture becomes nothing more than a plague of ani-
mated portraits of the "star." There is also the tendency to
"pad" such photoplays to such lengths that the interest lags.
It is the problem of the industry today to find a way out of the
"star" evil. For it is recognized that good photoplays could be
produced by capable players grouped in suitable permanent com-
panies, under the skilled direction of capable directors, and with
the usual talent of all those who go to make the photoplays, such
as the cameraman, scenario writer, title editor, scene artist, and
so on. Thus photoplays would be based on merit and not on
"names"; and everyone in the industry, excepting of course the
"stars" who are now asking fabulous sums for their work, would
be better off, especially the exhibitor who has to pay high rentals
for his films. However that may be, the great question of the art
today is the solution of the "star" evil.
Some time ago producers began the practice of giving credit,
to others besides the players. Now it is common practice for a
producer to mention the name of the director and possibly the
assistant director, the scenario writer, the art director, the cam-
eraman, and so on. At last the credit is being divided up a bit ;
and in the future it may be evened up far more than we dare now
believe is possible. The practice is commendable: the public
should be made to realize that the player is but a part of the
producing force and by no means the beginning and end and the
whole thing.
HOW SCREEN ACTING DIFFERS FROM STAGE ACTING
Acting before the camera and acting before a theatre audience
are two totally different things. The principal difference, of
course, is that one is an example of the pantomime art, while the
other is conventional acting ; one is totally silent, while the other
permits the use of speech. Broadly speaking, that is the main
difference.
But when the matter comes to be studied in greater detail,
the differences increase in number. On the stage the player has
a comparatively large space in which to maneuver, while the
photoplayer has a very limited space. A stage may measure
ABOVE: WHEN THE DIRECTOR EXPLAINS A BIT OF ACTION. BELOW:
" AND PUT SOME PEP INTO IT!"
40 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
fifty feet across and thirty feet in depth and be considered a small
stage, while a motion-picture set may measure ten feet across
and ten feet deep and be considered plenty large enough for a
certain bit of action. Again, the working shapes of the two stages
differ: the motion-picture set becomes wider the farther one gets
from the camera, while the legitimate stage becomes narrower
the farther one gets from the footlights.
For players coming direct from the theatre to the motion-
picture studio this matter of working room is quite confusing.
A stage player is at first constantly overstepping the limits of the
camera field, and is seriously cramped for room. But like so
many other things it is a matter of practice, and one soon gets
accustomed to the new order of acting.
Then there is the matter of working under a director, who tells
the player just what to do as we have learned from the preceding
chapter. But directors are exceedingly tactful and skillful in
handling players, ranging from the Broadway favorite to the
unknown "extra," and as a general thing little difficulty is en-
countered in this direction.
The absence of an audience is quite trying to some stage
players. Particularly is the absence of applause felt by those
who for years have appeared on the legitimate stage. It is pre-
cisely the same state of affairs as the opera singer who under-
takes his first phonograph record. Again the absence of the audi-
ence is seriously felt, and more than one singer develops an attack
of "phonograph fright," which must be overcome.
As for acting proper, there is considerable difference. It would
at first be supposed that the absence of dialogue is a serious
handicap; yet in practice it appears to count for little, except in
some cases where players have depended unduly on their voice
or manner of speech. There is much pantomime in photoplay
acting, but it is not precisely "silent" drama, as it is so often
called. For the players must "learn their lines" just as they do
in legitimate productions. There was a time when they did not
speak their parts, and the acting was far from realistic in conse-
quence. Today the players speak their parts, or at least move
their lips when they are supposed to speak. And in that way the
absence of speech only exists on the screen, and there it is readily
counterbalanced bv well-handled titles.
42 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
The profuse employment of the close-up effect has a material
influence on acting. On the stage the player is removed by many
feet from his audience; but when appearing in a motion-picture
close-up he is brought to within a half-dozen feet of the audience
a veritable tete-a-tete, so to speak. The acting must be more
restrained than it would be on the stage, where distance makes
it imperative to emphasize certain bits of action. The reason-
why a screen player often appears ridiculous in certain scenes is
through his lack of appreciation of the closeness of his audience.
There is also the matter of photography motion-picture photog-
raphy. If certain bits of action are carried out at normal rates,
the player's figure may be partially or wholly blurred when
photographed close-up. Slowness of movement must therefore be
practiced under certain conditions. The matter of speed is an
all-important one in photoplay acting, and is best mastered
through long experience.
WHAT IS A CAMERA FACE?
It is given to some persons to photograph well anywhere and
everywhere, while others never seem able to secure a good and
pleasing likeness of themselves. In motion pictures a player
must photograph well every time, for that is precisely what he
or she is hired for. So one of the prerequisites of a photoplayer is
a "camera face/'
What is a camera face? It is hard to define. Persons who
know much about photoplay faces claim that they have long
ago ceased to attempt an answer. It used to be said that a
camera face was that of a person with dark, regular features,
and dark eyes; yet so many very blond women with small fea-
tures have become photoplay "stars," that the riddle remains
unsolved.
In everyday life a slightly bent nose or a little droop of the
mouth or a peculiar angle of the eyebrows may add charm and
character to a face, yet on the screen these lines may have a quite
opposite effect. Wrinkles which might go unnoticed in everyday
life are accentuated in a most alarming manner by the camera
in "close-ups." As to eyes, certain shades of blue will not do
at all, and as a general thing black eyes photograph dull and
lifeless. Brown eyes are better, while blue-green eyes with a rim
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44 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
of yellow around the pupil, are best of all, as they retain their
expression and animation. Black hair does not photograph as
well as brown, red and blond, although much depends upon the
shade and quality.
A camera face, or the gift of photographing pleasingly, is a
great asset to a person seeking an opening in photoplay acting.
Many a well-known "star" of today entered in the industry with-
out previous experience because he or she possessed a camera
face. As often as not such persons were singled out from among
a crowd of "extras," granted a tryout before the camera, and
then taken in hand after proving good photographic types. But
a camera face is only a desirable, but not imperative, qualification
of the photoplay er; and one well-known director hastens to as-
sure us that the art can make more of a good actor without a
camera face than of a wonderful photographic type without any
ability for acting.
THE GENTLE ART OF FACIAL CAMOUFLAGE
Makeup covers a multitude of sins or shortcomings or call
them what you please. With the aid of a makeup expert any
face can be made over until it is more or less of a camera face;
at least, it photographs reasonably well.
An interesting problem in makeup arises in certain scenes
where a pronounced blond appears with one or more very dark
players. Obviously, the blond type reflects more light than the
brunettes, hence in the regular course of events a film would be
produced which, when developed, would either have the blond
correctly depicted, but the brunettes appearing like colored folk,
or the brunettes correct and the blond represented by a chalky
oval. It is simply a matter of excessive contrast. In such a case
it is necessary for the blond to use one of the heavier grease paints
so as to render her face less actinic and photographically closer
to the brunettes.
Some "stars" refuse to make up according to. the cameraman's
directions. In which case it becomes necessary to resort to cer-
tain lighting effects to secure the desired results. By means of
spot lights it is possible to apply the correct illumination for each
player, so as to average up all the players in one scene from the
cameraman's point of view.
46 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
Photoplay makeup cannot be studied in a mirror, despite the
very stubborn will of some "stars" to abide by that criterion.
All facial camouflage which is to appear before the camera must
be translated into the black-and-white language of photography,
and until that has been done no makeup is of any value. A
beautiful face in actual colors may prove a perfect fright on the
screen; and so all questions of makeup are generally decided by
the cameraman.
It is really wonderful what can be accomplished by the painless
surgery of the screen in the matter of facial beauty. A crooked
nose, for instance, need not come in contact with the knife or be
puffed up with paraffin in order to be straightened. If one side
of the nose is too heavy a little pink grease paint will tone it
down. A bent ridge may be straightened by running a straight
highlight with grease paint. A flat nose can be made beautiful
by shading the sides with pink grease paint and highlighting the
ridge. A long nose can be cut down a quarter of an inch or half
an inch with the aid of a pink tip.
Round faces and long faces can be altered to suit requirements
by the shifting of pink grease areas. Indeed, an entire book could
be written on the w r onderful makeup of the screen.
And camouflage does not stop with the face. Shortcomings
of Nature as evinced in certain imperfections of one's figure can
be rectified by various forms of deception, ranging from the art
of the wardrobe mistress to the placing of the lighting stands.
There's no use denying the old saying, "You never can tell!"
When it comes to comparing the beauty of a certain photoplay
"star" with that of your best girl, play "safe." Give your best
girl the benefit of the doubt. You see her as she really is: she has
no spot lights to wipe out wrinkles, no grease paint to take off
some of her nose, no camouflage spots to give her face a pleasing
roundness. But in the case of the photoplay beauty, well, "You
never can tell!!"
HOW THEY GOT INTO THE "MOVIES"
There is no standard formula for getting into the "movies."
If there were, a person might make a fortune dispensing the
formula to the tens of thousands of film aspirants, ranging from
the fourteen-year old school girl in love with a certain film hero
48 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
to the grandmother of fifty-odd who has suddenly discovered her
latent histrionic talent.
In the early days almost anyone who was expressive with his
hands and face could enter the "movies" at a salary of $15 a
week or better. But as the art became firmly established, the
requirements of screen acting became more severe, until today
it is difficult in the extreme to "break into the photoplay game."
Some persons drift into motion pictures merely through chance.
The story is told of one young man, who is now one of the lesser
"stars," who secured his initial engagement because of his clothes.
Always a good dresser, he appeared day after day in the cast
room of a certain studio. One day the cast director was in need
of a well-dressed young man, and as luck would have it he
selected this young man. It so proved that the young man had
ability, and he rose rapidly in the art. Others have secured their
initial opportunity in equally odd and chance ways.
Some have come direct from the stage to the "movies," and it
must be said that they have the one great advantage of knowing
how to act. Everything else being equal, a director naturally
prefers a stage actor, because his instructions are bound to be
carried out more readily.
While not possessing any special talent or experience, a person
who is unusual in some one respect can generally get into the
pictures sooner or later. An exceptionally tall man, for instance,
can find an engagement when a firm is about to produce some
fairy story or comedy calling for such a character. A thin man,
a fat man, a short man, and any other out-of-the-ordinaryman
or woman can secure an opportunity to appear before the camera
because he or she is a rare "type."
But for plain mortals the road to photoplay success is a long
and cruel one. There is no such thing as taking up a course in
some motion-picture correspondence school and then going to a
studio and securing a position as leading man or lady. All such
schools are nothing more or less than quacks.
The only way to enter a studio barring influence with some
one in the industry is to go to the casting room day by day,
waiting for an opportunity as an "extra." If one perseveres in
these daily visits, the casting director is almost bound to take
such a person as an "extra" sooner or later; and that is the
ABOVE: THIS GIANT GOT INTO PICTURES BECAUSE OF HIS SIZE.
BELOW: REAL PLAYERS IN REEL WORK
50 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
opportunity to show one's capabilities. The truth of the matter is
that film companies have all the players they need; their waiting
lists number hundreds if not thousands of trained and semi-
trained players who can be called at any time.
GETTING CHILDREN TO ACT
About the most difficult task a director can expect to under-
take is the directing of children. All producing companies have
certain children whom they can call upon at short notice, which
accounts for the disappointment which is bound to be met by fond
mothers who would see their little Billie Boy and blue-eyed
Magnolia in the "movies."
There are certain children actors who possess remarkable
talent. Generally born of actor parents, these children act with
the greatest ease. Still, they are children at heart; and it often
requires the greatest tact and diplomacy on the part of the di-
rector to urge them to act. Like other children they have their
moods and their pouts. All sorts of subterfuges must be resorted
to in order to get these children to act at times. So the credit
due the director is all the greater in the case of child players.
Some directors have gone in for child plays and with truly
remarkable success. Two brothers in particular have directed
plays in which the casts have been almost entirely made up of
children, and it has been indeed difficult to realize, when viewing
these pictures on the screen, that not a single actor, with the ex-
ception of a few taking the rather unimportant roles of adults,
exceeded eight or ten years of age.
While dealing with child pictures it is well to add a few words
regarding the taking of a child's role by an adult player. One is
often at a loss to account for the ease and realism with which a
well-known adult player takes the part of a little girl or boy at
the beginning of a photoplay, and then assumes a grown-up role
later on. The realistic effect is largely a matter of comparative
sizes. If a player is of somewhat short stature to begin with, the
rest is greatly simplified.
For it is a fact that we judge size by comparison. When we
say a thing is large, it is because it compares that way with some
object of known size. And so the matter of largeness or small-
ness is merely a matter of comparison, and the motion-picture
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52 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
folk take advantage of that fact. When an adult player assumes
a child's role, it is merely necessary to have exceptionally tall
people appear with that player to make him or her shrink to the
relative height of a child, so to speak. The illusion can be car-
ried out still further by using special furniture of exaggerated size
a table can be made four feet high ; special forks, spoons, plates
and other tableware can be used; and so on. Then, when the
player assumes the role of an adult, the exaggerated surroundings
are replaced by normal surroundings, thus causing the player to
"grow" to a corresponding degree.
MAKING PEOPLE LAUGH
After all is said and done, persons go to motion-picture theatres
to be entertained. They go with the intention of leaving the
worries of the workaday world behind them for a few hours, at
least. Certain it is that they do not go to witness the worries and
troubles of other persons, as depicted on the screen. And that is
precisely what makes the comedy films so popular these days,
when picture producers have at last come to understand their
audiences and know how to produce good comedy as well as good
drama.
It is easier to be serious than to be humorous, and in nothing
is this more evident than in photoplay production. For the pro-
ducer is perfectly safe in assuming that his audience will be sad
and very much impressed with a given dramatic production ; yet,
when he is attempting a comedy photoplay, he is ever fearful as
to whether or not the humor of the pictures will be appreciated
by his audience. Often the most funny portion of a scenario
falls absolutely flat when translated into action and projected
on the screen. It is quite one thing to obtain a laugh from writ-
ten comedy and quite another to obtain another laugh from a
film comedy.
Because of the numerous difficulties in the way of creating
good comedy on the screen, most producers do not attempt com-
edy production. On the other hand there are some producers
who have made a long and exhaustive study of comedy and who
produce nothing else. The same applies to those actors who
have the happy faculty of understanding what is really funny
and who know how to apply it to the screen.
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54 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
One of the greatest film comedians assures us that there is no
mystery about his success in film comedy. He explains his suc-
cess by merely saying that he happens to know a few simple facts
about human nature and makes use of these in his work. Thus he
points out to one of the fundamental elements of comedy, which
.is the exposition of a person being placed in an undignified and
embarrassing situation.
Merely to see a man's hat blown off is not funny, provided the
man is not embarrassed. But if the victim immediately starts
chasing his hat, with perhaps a fall or two thrown in for good
measure, the situation becomes most funny. If it is a poor man,
the situation is just funny, nothing more; but if it happens to be
a wealthy man, official or nobleman, the situation is enhanced
many fold. Years ago, when the pictures were still young, the
French producers realized this fundamental requisite to screen
comedy by showing the gendarmes of Paris subjected to all sorts
of undignified treatment. The Parisian policemen were shown
falling down coal chutes, receiving the contents of whitewash
p^ails, and so on.
There must be a trace of resentment against dignity and power
in the makeup of most individuals, whether they are aware of it
or not; for the sudden lowering of dignity as depicted on the
screen is always greeted with overwhelming applause. It is one
of the main ingredients in motion-picture comedy.
A still funnier situation is when the victim, who has been
rendered ridiculous, refuses to admit that anything is out of the
way, and attempts to maintain his usual dignity. That is why
the intoxicated man who tries to disguise the obvious fact that
he is in that condition, is so funny both on the speaking stage
and on the screen.
All the screen comedies of the best-known comedian in the
world are based on the idea of getting himself into trouble and
then attempting to get out of that trouble while still maintaining
his dignity with little, if any, success. In the first place, the
get-up which has made this comedian's name known throughout
the world, is that of a gentleman's, ill-fitting and ragged though
it may be. Thus the comedian seems to be trying his best to
appear as a gentleman, while all the while the audience is com-
pelled to laugh because his attempts at dignity are so hopeless.
ONE OF FILM-LAND'S MOST POPULAR COMEDIANS IN ACTION BY THE
SEASHORE AND IN THE MOUNTAINS
r>0 The Real Kole of the Picture Actor
He is forever straightening his derby hat, which is several times
too small for his head. His shoes are many sizes too big, and
have a way of getting him into trouble. His cane, too, is con-
tinually getting him into difficulties. His trousers are baggy
and without crease, with sufficient square- foot surface to clothe
several more of him. All in all, it is his attempt to take the role
of a fastidious gentleman that accounts for a good part of his
success.
This same comedian bases his photoplays on everyday life.
Thus he has appreciated the comical possibilities in a department
store, in the life of a fireman, in a prize fight, in a bogus count's
courtship, and so on, producing photoplays making use of these
possibilities. This comedian is always awake to comical situa-
tions, and sooner or later he introduces these situations in his
photoplays which he leads as well as directs. He spends many
hours in motion-picture houses where his pictures are being
shown, for the purpose of learning how the audience takes each
"stunt." If the applause is not quite up to expectations for any
given "stunt," he at once begins to analyze that "stunt" with a
view to finding where the trouble lies whether it is in the idea or
the execution. Even a comedian of his calibre is ever fearful
that his comedies may not be understood and appreciated by the
audience. Then again, the public is fickle, and new "stunts"
must continuously be introduced in order to retain popular in-
terest.
Sympathy is also an important element in comedy. This
comedian always tries to have the sympathy of the audience while
enacting his foolish roles. So, if he is being shaken or beaten by
an enraged rival, the latter is a very large man in contrast to the
small stature of this comedian. Then by assuming a pathetic
and martyred expression, the comedian gains the sympathy of
the audience in the ridiculous situation. The mob, as he puts it,
always sympathizes with the "under dog"; and to gain that
sympathy is to gain popular favor.
In the matter of contrast, many comical possibilities are avail-
able. Thus in a recent photoplay in which this comedian takes
the part of a farmer, he goes out in a field to sow, taking one seed
at a time out of his vest pocket and digging a hole for it with his
finger. Now when the location director set out to find a suitable
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58 The Real Role of the Picture Actor
farm for the farming scenes, he settled his choice on a small but
attractive farm. However, the great comedian immediately con-
demned the use of such a small farm, and asked for a very large
one in order that the contrast between his method of planting
and the extent of the farm would be most ludicrous.
Surprise is another big factor in comedy. Typical of the effect
of surprise, are the opening scenes of a recent photoplay of this
famous screen star, based on the life of a bank janitor. At first
the audience does not realize that he is a janitor, as he comes
shuffling down the avenue in the most dignified manner at his
command. He enters the bank and proceeds down to the safe-
deposit vault, where he is soon engaged in turning the combina-
tion knobs, partly from memory and partly by referring to certain
notations on his shirt cuffs. Then he swings open the heavy
doors of steel, walks into the vault and well, to the utter amaze-
ment of the expectant audience, he comes out with his mops and
scrub pails!
The audience enjoy these surprises. They like to be fooled, if
it is done in an ingenious manner. Thus in the opening scene
of another photoplay based on the life of an immigrant, the audi-
ence sees the screen comedian leaning over the rail of a ship,
with his back toward them. From the convulsive shudders of
his shoulders, there can be little doubt that he is seasick. But
when he straightens out a fishing line with a fish at the end
comes into view. This total surprise has never failed to bring a
roar of laughter from any audience.
Much of the success of a comedy picture depends on not mak-
ing it too funny. There is a certain amount of physical exertion
connected with violent laughing, and this comedian points out
that he would rather have one or two big laughs and a continual
ripple of amusement, than an "explosion" every minute or two
with dull moments between. For this reason his pictures have a
fascinating and effective way of swinging occasionally into semi-
dramatic situations, which call for much sympathy on the part
of the audience. The purpose of these short relapses is merely
to give the audience a momentary rest from the strenuous task of
laughing, and to afford variety and violent contrast.
Comedy film remains the hardest kind of film to produce. This
comedian has been limiting his yearly output to ten or twelve
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GO The Real Rote of the Picture Actor
photoplays, in order to have plenty of time for each. He tells
us that as many as 60,000 feet of film must be taken for one of
his photoplays which require only 40 minutes on the screen; and
in the editing of such films down to two thousand feet, much has
to be thrown out because it does not prove sufficiently funny,
or is irrelevant to the main action of the story.
is IT "GETTING ACROSS?"
Whether on the legitimate stage or in motion pictures, an
actor's chief concern is how the audience is impressed with his
role. On the speaking stage it is difficult to ascertain the attitude
of the audience except by the frequency and volume of applause ;
and so it is always with great joy that an actor receives applause.
There are actors who make it a point to have relatives or friends
present on the opening night of a new show, in order that these
relatives or friends may inform them how things appeared "out
front."
The motion-picture actor has no applause to guide him, and
the final test of his work is the projected image. Thus it is the
practice of many studios to have all the actors and directors
attend the first projection of a photoplay, in order that all can
freely criticize or commend the action and direction and scenery.
To many in the profession, such gatherings are referred to as the
"chamber of horrors" ; yet they realize full well that such gather-
ings are of great help to all who participate in a photoplay.
And as a general thing an actor is the best judge of his screen
work ; for there are few actors who are so self-centered that they
cannot pick their screen actions to pieces, criticizing and analyz-
ing the roles and learning how to better themselves in subsequent
photoplays.
And then there is the matter of public opinion. Many photo-
play actors make it a point to visit, incognito of course, various
theatres where their pictures are being shown, in order to ascer-
tain how the audience is enjoying their work. The general
attitude of the audience toward various actions is taken into
account; little "stunts" that prove successful are noted for future
pictures; actions that fall flat are likewise noted, in order that
they may be discarded or replaced by something else.
After all, an actor is like a manufacturer: both must please
H S)
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62 The Ecal Role of the Picture Actor
the public in order to dispose of their wares. That is why both
of them must always study their markets, keeping in close touch
with the buyers of their wares in order to be ever ready to meet
the changes of heart and choice of the notoriously fickle public.
No matter how successful an actor may be, he is constantly
asking himself, "Am I 'getting across?' ' For that is the way
with the folk who entertain us in the shadow pictures of the
screen.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MOTION-PICTURE CAMERA
fHTJHE BASIS of the mot ion- picture industry is the
i camera. It is the camera through which the audience
sees the work of the players, directors, scenery artisans
and others engaged in photoplay production. As the
medium between the industry and the public, the camera
has received the attention of the leading photographic,
optical and mechanical experts of the world. It has been
constantly refined from the elephantine cameras of the
early days to the highly perfected and readily portable
cameras of the present. All manner of optical and
mechanical device* have been added to it for producing
numerous startliml and pleasing photographic effects.
That is why thmmot ion-picture camera represents the
highest attainment in modern photography.
64 The Motion-Picture Camera
THERE is little difference between your camera and the
motion-picture camera. Both employ the same principles.
In your camera you make one photograph at a time, and
then change the plates or turn the film so as to bring another
unexposed negative surface into position. In the motion-picture
camera a series of photographs is made, and the shifting of the
negative is done automatically. That is the main difference
between the two kinds of cameras, the "still" and the motion-
picture.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE THOUSANDS
It is upon film stock measuring 1% inches wide that motion
pictures are made. The standard film has an approximate thick-
ness of .006 inch, of which .005 inch is represented by the
celluloid, the remainder being the emulsion. The film is manu-
factured in lengths of 200 and 400 feet as a general thing.
Now each motion-picture photograph or image measures one
inch wide by %-inch high. The 3/16-inch margin on either side
of the image is occupied by perforations, evenly spaced, with
four coming opposite each image or "frame" in most cases. How-
ever, there are at least four different arrangements of perfora-
tions in use at present. These different frame lines, to give them
their professional designation, vary but slightly one from the
other: some are opposite the dividing line between images, others
are a little off the line, others are still farther off, and finally come
those in which the dividing line comes between successive perfora-
tions. No doubt the frame lines must be standardized in the near
future, just as so many other phases of the motion-picture in-
dustry have already been standardized. But in the meantime
it is fortunate that the better types of cameras are arranged to
take pictures with any kind of frame line, permitting the operator
to match up his product with any other existing film.
The average reel of film containing 1,000 feet of celluloid rib-
bon, includes 16,000 frames in all, or 16 perfect images to the
foot. But such a reel is the product of many different strips of
film which have passed through one or more cameras, since only
400 feet of film is handled at a time by even the largest cameras
in general use. In some cameras the successive frames are sepa-
rated by a slight hairline, while in others there is an appreciable
V*'
THIS IS HOW A MOTION-PICTURE FILM REPRESENTS AN EXPLOSION,
IN POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE
66 The Motion-Picture Camera
space between; but that is merely a matter of mechanism and in
any event the screen results are identical.
As already stated, the motion-picture camera is nothing more
than an ordinary camera taking a series of snapshots. The film is
exposed by a revolving shutter which has openings, so that as the
shutter revolves and the openings come in line with the lens,
light passes through and strikes the film. The latter, meanwhile,
is stationary. However, no sooner has the light reached the film
when the shutter, revolving all the while, brings an opaque section
in the path of light and masks the film which is then pulled down in
order to bring a fresh section into place. The shutter again brings
an opening into line and the light passes through to the fresh
film surface, making a second exposure. After which the shutter
again cuts off the light and the process is repeated over and over
again as long as there is film in the camera and the crank is
turned. What makes the camera so complicated is that the shift-
ing of the film is automatically accomplished and with great
accuracy. A difference of a hundredth of an inch in shifting the
film makes for an appreciable difference when the film is magni-
fied thousands of times on the screen. That is why the machine
work must be of the very best; and the high grade machine work,
in turn, explains the high cost of such equipment which runs into
hundreds and even thousands of dollars.
Examining the motion-picture camera in detail, we come first
to the lens, which, like in any other photographic apparatus, is
the most important member. Above all, the lens must be of the
speediest kind, since there is no such thing as time exposure in
the regular run of motion-picture photography; indeed, practi-
cally all pictures are made with exposures varying from l/25th
to l/50th of a second. And since pictures must be made in all
kinds of weather and with all sorts of light, the lens must be ex-
ceedingly rapid.
A LENS EIGHT TIMES FASTER THAN USUAL
All the better types of motion-picture cameras are equipped
with what is known as an f/3.5 lens, which, to the person informed
in photographic matters, means that it has a speed about eight
times that of the average amateur camera. Thus the motion-
picture cameraman is enabled to make pictures in the shadow,
a
ABOVE: THE DEBRIE MOTION-PICTURE CAMERA. BELOW: DIAGRAM-
MATIC PICTURE OF A TYPICAL CAMERA
68 The Motion-Picture Camera
or in the open on a dark day ; whereas it is quite outside the realm
of the amateur's apparatus, except by having the subject remain
still so as to permit of making a time exposure.
In bright sunlight the lens is generally set at f/16 or f/22,
corresponding to 16 and 32 on the amateur cameras making use
of the U. S. or Uniform System of lens openings. On dark days
the lens is used at f/3.5 or f/4.5, which is practically wide open
and far beyond the scope of the amateur camera.
Now between the glass pieces forming the lens there is a
mechanism known as the diaphragm, consisting of a large num-
ber of radially arranged, overlapping leaves. The leaves as a unit
can be brought nearer or farther away from the axial line of the
lens, so as to vary the opening and thereby control the amount
of light passing through the lens. In fact, the lens is like a valve
when provided with an iris diaphragm of this sort, and more or
less light can be passed by the mere adjustment of the diaphragm.
The needs of the negative are met by the iris diaphragm
adjustment.
In a special series of night scenes taken in a large New York
restaurant, a motion-picture producer had a special lens made by
a London optical expert. The lens was rated at f/1.9, or several
times faster than the regular equipment. This increased speed
permitted beautiful pictures to be obtained with ordinary incan-
descent illumination in the restaurant. Since then this type of
lens, namely, f/1.9, has become quite common and is often
employed for interior work and in making night scenes.
The focus of the average cinematograph lens is only two
inches, although there are numerous three-inch lenses in use. The
lens is generally between one-half inch and three-quarter inch in
diameter, which, while seemingly small, is ample when the
diminutive measurements of the negative surface are recalled.
It is the short focus of the cinematograph lens which makes
for the superb photography of the films. For with short focus
lenses it is possible to obtain a great depth of focus, by which is
meant that in the average scene every object is clearly delineated,
from the foreground to the background. In many amateur snap-
shots the results are disappointing because part of the subject is
sharp or in focus, while another part, either up front or toward
the back, is fuzzy. That condition is known as lack of depth of
THE PRESWITCH CAMERA, OF BRITISH MAKE, WHICH IS WIDELY EM-
PLOYED FOR STUDIO AND OUTDOOR WORK
70 The Motion-Picture Camera
focus. Which means that the lens, used with the opening for
which it was set, did not possess a sufficient depth of focus for the
results sought. The longer the focal length of a lens, the less the
depth of focus, and vice versa.
Yet it is not the author's intention here to delve into that inter-
esting but highly technical subject of optics. Suffice it to say
that in any good work on photography or optics, the reader can
study the phenomenon of focal length and depth of focus. The
"hyperfocal distance" of a lens is the phrase applied to its depth
of focus at various lens openings.
WHAT MAKES FILM PICTURES NEEDLE SHARP?
So that little term, hyperfocal distance, whatever that may be,
has a great influence on the clearness of pictures. With some
professional portrait lenses the focal length is so great that in a
portrait the front of the face may be in focus while the ears will
be out of focus. On the other hand the motion-picture lens has
almost universal focus when at all cut down, that is to say, when
employed with a reduced aperture.
Short focus lenses have been the entire secret of success of
motion pictures. If lenses of five-inch focus had to be employed
as in the case of the press photographer making "still" views,
the results would be altogether different in the deep scenes. It-
would not be possible for actors to move about from the forefront
of the stage to the rear, or from a distance of five feet to twenty
or thirty feet; for if they did, they would only be in focus at
either point. Much of the picture would be blurred or indistinct,
in consequence. But due to the two-inch focus lenses now avail-
able the players can roam about any of the large stages employed
for spectacular productions without the slightest fear of getting
out of focus.
There are several variations of the mechanism employed for
moving the film in the camera, but they all are the means to the
same end, namely, the advancing of the film three-quarter inch
each time an exposure has been made. The most common type of
mechanism is what is known as the claw movement. In this de-
sign two claw-like members, operated in unison by a cam move-
ment or eccentric, reach up and engage a pair of perforations and
then pull down the film the requisite distance, only to disengage
.
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72 The Motion-Picture Camera
and again rise to engage with another pair of perforations, and
so on.
In another design of movement the claws are replaced by pins
which are moved in and out of engagement with the sprocket
holes by a drunken screw^ device on the shutter shaft, while the
up and down motion of the pins is taken care of by an eccentric
lever. The moving of the film is intermittent, while that of the
revolving shutter, the sprockets and other members is continuous.
In order to compensate between the continuous movement of
the film at the top and at the bottom of the intermittent mech-
anism, loops are left in the film. The film is fed regularly into the
top loop and removed intermittently by the film-shifting mech-
anism, while the reverse operation takes place in the lower loop.
For many years the basic patents on the loop arrangement pre-
vented unlicensed parties from constructing a motion-picture
camera, for such a camera must make use of loops in the film
to operate successfully.
The film is contained in day light- loading boxes or magazines.
The latter are loaded in the dark room, just as plateholders are
loaded for a day's work. The film thus becomes daylight-loading
in the camera, and by carrying three magazines of 400- foot ca-
pacity each, the cameraman has enough film for more than an
average day's work.
In the camera, where the magazines are interchangeable, the
film passes out of the top magazine, through the camera mechan-
ism, and enters the lower magazine where it is wound up and
protected against light which would ruin it, until it has been
developed and fixed in the laboratory. The lower magazine is
known as the take-up magazine. When the film in the top maga-
zine is exhausted, the lower or take-up magazine is removed, the
top magazine is put in its place, and a fresh or loaded magazine
takes the place of the empty one.
MAKING SURE OP WHAT THE CAMERA IS TAKING
There are two ways to focus the motion-picture camera, one
an approximation method and the other a precise one where the
subject requires it, more particularly in "close-ups" because the
depth of focus diminishes rapidly with shorter distances. As
in the case of the better grade amateur cameras, the focusing
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74 The Motion-Picture Camera
at fair distances is done by estimating the number of feet between
the main subject and the lens, and then setting the lens barrel
according to a scale engraved on a flange or under a lever. The
other method is to focus on a ground glass or on the film stock
itself, where great care is necessary.
Some cameras are provided with a peep hole at the rear, in
which case focusing is accomplished by looking through the peep
hole at the image appearing on the film stock, wrong side up.
The film stock acts, much in the same manner as ground glass,
excepting that it is of a light yellow tint and less penetrable by
the light rays, and therefore renders it more difficult to view the
image. Nevertheless this method is used every day and seems
quite satisfactory when the lens is wide open so as to pass a maxi-
mum of light. Other cameras have a peep hole on the side, with
a mirror or prism arranged inside the camera so as to permit
seeing the film image "around the corner," as it were. There are
a few cameras in which the peep hole is arranged to permit of
seeing the image on the front face of the film and not through it,
thus getting away from the dimness generally prevailing.
Some peep holes are equipped with magnifying glasses so that
the image is seen several times its actual size, which is a great aid
in making sure of the focus on minute details. Where such mag-
nifying glasses are not incorporated in the camera, the operators
generally use a pocket magnifier for checking up the focus of the
minute details of the image.
Peep holes are always provided with light-proof shutters, doors,
or caps, for it is quite obvious that if they were allowed to remain
open during filming, all of the film moving past the peep hole
would be light-struck or ruined. Some peep holes are arranged
to open by pressing down a lever, and to close by spring or gravity
action the moment the pressure is removed. Others are opened
by pressing the eye against an eyepiece, and close again when the
eye is removed.
While the film is being exposed, the operator can view his
subject through a finder mounted either on the top or the side of
the camera. The finder is either of the ground glass or the bril-
liant, direct-view type. In the former the image is shown upside
down, just as on the ground glass screen of the usual plate
camera, while in the latter it is shown right side up. The finder
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"6 The Motion-Picture Camera
is exceptionally useful indispensable, for that matter when it
is necessary to follow a moving subject. It is to the camera what
the sights are to the rifle.
The usual speed of operation is 16 pictures per second, or a
cranking speed of two turns per second. But there are times, as
will be explained in a subsequent chapter, when certain trick
effects are to be obtained, in which case a slower rate of taking
is desirable. For just such purposes every camera is provided
with a second movement known as the single-picture or trick
movement. The same crank can be removed from the usual
crank shaft and placed on the trick shaft so as to take one pic-
ture for every turn. All kinds of interesting effects are obtained
in this manner.
HOW MUCH FILM HAS BEEN EXPOSED?
As can well be imagined, the cameraman must know how much
film remains in his magazines and how much he has taken. The
predicament of a cameraman running out of film in the middle of
an important dramatic scene, when some well-known screen idol
has worked himself into a perfect frenzy in order to register the
sublime heights of emotion, is as sad as a soldier run short of
ammunition when a Hun is charging him. It usually means
another cameraman seeking a position!
At any rate, it is absolutely necessary to know how much film
remains in the camera, unexposed. To that end every camera
worthy of the name is provided with a counter. This device is
merely a dial graduated in feet or meters, over which travels a
hand or indicator connected to the camera mechanism by a suit-
able train of gears. As the film passes through the camera the
counter hand revolves and indicates the film exposed. In some
cases a counter with two hands is used, so as to keep track not
only of the total film exposed, but the film used in each scene.
One hand is stationary while the other revolves about the dial.
At the start of each scene the stationary hand is moved to the
position where it coincides with the active hand, and as the film
is consumed the latter moves farther and farther away from the
former. The total number of feet consumed can be read directly
beneath the active hand, while the footage for the last scene is
THE UNIVERSAL IS A MODERATE-PRICED CAMERA LARGELY EMPLOYED
FOR TRAVEL AND "NEWS" WORK
78 The Motion-Picture Camera
obtained by subtracting the reading of the stationary hand from
that of the active hand.
A refinement found only on the most elaborate cameras is a
speed indicator. While the correct cranking speed comes as a
matter of constant practice, some cameras are provided with
speed indicators which give readings over quite a range. To be
sure, the exact cranking speed is. a valuable factor to know, al-
though any experienced cameraman can tell his cranking speed
pretty closely without the aid of an indicator; and since eight
pictures are made for every revolution of the crank, the number
of pictures per second is soon determined.
Still another refinement is a film punch. The object of this
device is to punch a hole at the end of each scene so that the
laboratory hands can tell where a scene begins and ends. Ob-
viously this is of great assistance in the developing and fixing
process, because for best results each scene requires separate
treatment to compensate for varying exposures. At the end of
each scene the cameraman merely presses the button of the punch
located on the outside of the camera case.
A poor camera it is that does not permit cranking in either
direction, for the majority of work requires the film to be moved
in either direction as will be explained in the next chapter. So
the film handling mechanism is constructed to operate equally
well in either direction; and the magazines, being absolutely in-
terchangeable in this respect, serve either as feeding magazine
or take-up magazine at the command of the crank. This feature
necessitates a train of gears, belt or chain drive between the
main driving shaft and the spindles of the magazines.
THE FIFTY-SEVEN VARIETIES OF CAMERAS
Large cameras, small cameras, cheap cameras, expensive cam-
eras, studio cameras, outdoor or "news" cameras all these are
available today. The purchaser of a camera at present is in the
same position as the prospective buyer of an automobile, as
regards variety. But it has not always been so; indeed, only a
few years ago when the industry was still a monopoly, because
of the basic patents held by a patents corporation, cameras were
scarce and practically unobtainable except by the few licensed
film manufacturers. When the courts finally decided the patent
MATTS USED IN REGULAR WORK. TWO OR FOUR MATTS CONSTITUTE A
SET, ONE OR TWO FOR FILMING AND ONE OR TWO FOR FOCUSING
The Motion-Picture Camera
litigation in favor of the struggling independent producers, film
cameras at once began to appear on the market. Today there is
no scarcity of such equipment to fit every requirement and
every pocketbook. Cameras for amateur work can be obtained
for as little as $35.00, and the best of imported professional
models sell for close on to $1,000.00.
In the East the producers seem to prefer the Pathe studio
camera, which is of French design and manufacture, to any other.
The Pathe has a substantial case covered with black or brown
leather, with the crank at the rear instead of on the side. Its
main characteristic, however, is the arrangement of the maga-
zines which, contrary to most cameras, are placed outside and
above the camera proper, at right angles to the camera. The
Pathe has a peep hole at the rear which permits of focusing
the image either on the film stock or on ground glass.
A more recent model of the Pathe camera follows the practice
of the majority of cameras by enclosing the magazines. This
model is largely employed for outdoor work because of its com-
pactness.
Other cameras of French manufacture are the Gaumont and
the Eclair, neither of which is used to any appreciable extent
in this country. The Debrie camera, on the other hand, is used
both in photoplay production and in "news" work, and is a great
favorite because of its compactness and excellent workmanship.
In fact, it is claimed by many in the industry that the Debrie is
without peer, although this is a very broad claim in view of the
many excellent models now in use.
Of the British cameras the Preswitch, Moy, and the Williamson
are the best known and the most widely employed in our in-
dustry. They are all very much along the same general lines,
being tall, deep, and narrow, with the polished hardwood case
bound in brass.
Prior to the war there were several types of German cameras
obtainable, chief among them being the Ernemann models with
self-contained magazines. However, in the case of the profes-
sional German cameras the usual complaint heard in this country
was that they were too large and too cumbersome as compared
to others. Even in those days "Kolossal" was a creed with the
Germans !
ALL-AMERICAN IN DESIGN AND CONSTRUCTION, THE BELL & HOWELL
IS FAST BECOMING OUR LEADING CAMERA
82 The Motion-Picture Camera
In these United States we are making a variety of excellent
cameras which are becoming increasingly popular with the pro-
ducers. There is the Bell & Howell, made entirely of metal, with
circular, external magazines above the camera proper. This
camera has every convenience a cameraman might wish for.
There is a speed indicator, counter, outside slot for inserting
mats, the use of which is explained in the next chapter, and,
most important of all, a revolving lens board in front which
carries a collection of lenses of varying foci, any one of which can
be brought into action by the mere turning of the lens board.
The revolving lens board is quite characteristic of the Bell &
Howell model. In studio work this camera is very popular,
especially in the West, because of the ease with which the change
can be made from a two-inch to a three-inch lens, permitting of
making close-up views without budging the camera from its
position used in making the general scene.
There are the Universal, Pittman and others, all available for
commercial work. Again, some producers make their own cam-
eras in accordance with certain ideas they may have. One pro-
ducing concern which no longer exists made use of elephantine
cameras of its own design and construction. The stand for these
cameras when used in the studio was made of steel tubing with
an iron base, with various gears and huge wheels for the adjust-
ments. Another producer has made use of a rather large camera
which exposes two negatives at one time, so as to avoid defective
negatives.
Lastly, this discussion of American cameras would not be com-
plete without a word about the most radical camera of all, that
designed by Carl Akeley, the scientist and explorer. It was while
on a journey through Africa that Mr. Akeley, equipped with a
conventional type of motion-picture camera, discovered its many
limitations. So upon his return to this country he set to work
designing a camera which could be employed under all conditions.
The peep hole of this camera is so constructed that a light trap
opens when the eye is pressed against it, and if desired the
operator can view his subject on the film stock while making the
exposures. The camera is round and compact, with the lens
mounted on the rim. By a novel suspension arrangement the
camera is self-leveling, and can be aimed in any direction in an
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The Motion-Picture Camera
instant. It can be employed without a tripod if necessary,
through the use of a flexible cranking shaft. And there are nu-
merous other novel features which go to make the Akeley camera
the most novel of any.
A SOLID FOUNDATION FOR STEADY PICTURES
The motion-picture camera must be mounted on a substantial
base or tripod if steady pictures are wanted. So part and parcel
of the equipment is a heavy, firm tripod on which the camera is
set.
Much has been done of late in developing rigid yet light-weight
tripods. There was a time when it was considered essential to
make tripods tremendously heavy in order to secure steadiness;
but today the rockbed steadiness has been obtained rather by
ingenious construction than by weight. Collapsed, the average
tripod weighs about 25 pounds and measures little more than
four feet in length. That is an all-round, general utility tripod
for indoor and outside work. In the studio where weight is no
object, heavier and taller tripods are to be found.
Tripods are made of light wood or metal. The legs are made in
sections so that they may be extended or collapsed to make the
tripod any height between the minimum of say four feet, and
the maximum of six to eight feet. Metal straps and wing-nuts
bind the legs in any position.
There is still another important member of the tripod, namely,
the head, which serves to mount the camera and to turn it in any
direction after the fashion of a cannon. The heads of the com-
mercial kind have two movements: an up-and-down movement,
known as the tilting movement, and a horizontal turning move-
ment known as the panoramic. Each movement is controlled by
a separate crank, although in some heads a single crank is em-
ployed for both movements ; and by pushing the crank or pulling
it out on its shaft, either movement can be operated with one
hand. Both movements being operated by a gear arrangement,
the camera is turned or raised at a slow rate. But by releasing
the mechanism the camera can be freely swung into position
when prompt action demands it.
For following an object moving either horizontally or verti-
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86 The Motion-Picture Camera
cally, the tripod head is available. For bringing the camera to
bear on a fixed object, the head is also available. Any one who
has had experience in aiming a bulky plate camera on a given
object by shifting the tripod legs, will appreciate the simplicity
and dispatch of doing the work by the turning of two cranks.
Of late there has been developed an interesting form of marine
tripod, in which the tripod head is mounted in a gimbal-ring
arrangement, like the usual marine compass, and connected to a
long and heavily weighted pendulum. The result of this con-
struction is a tripod head which always maintains a true hori-
zontal position no matter how the tripod may be pitched and
tossed about. This tripod is now being employed for taking
marine views, in which case it makes for pictures on an even
keel, so to speak, as distinguished from the pictures made with
the plain type of tripod, which dizzily twist and turn on the
screen.
CHAPTER V.
THE CAMERAMAN AND HIS ART
/F THE CAMERA has been perfected, so has the
cameraman perfected himself in his art. For the
camera is but the tool, and the best tools are worthless
in the hands of an unskilled worker. Year after year
the cameraman has come to know his camera, his light
both indoors and outdoors, his subjects, his limitations,
and other phases of his work more and more intimately.
The old-time cameraman frankly admits that he is
ashamed to look back on his work of ten years ago, with
the indistinct figures and backgrounds and the general
inartistic arrangement of those pioneer scenes. But in the
productions of today the cameraman is a big factor; he is
the connecting link between the screen folk and the public.
88 The Cameraman and His Art
MOTION PICTURES became popular when the camera-
man became acquainted with his work. A dozen years
ago when the industry was in its infancy the films were
of poor photographic quality: they were indistinct; they jumped
about on the screen in the most disconcerting manner; and they
flickered to such a degree that only the strongest of eyes could
attend a performance more than once a week.
Yet the stories these films told were good stories, in many
instances comparing favorably with those of today. The fault
was clearly not with the stories or the acting. But no audience
cares to be discomforted when seeking distraction or entertain-
ment; and so it came to pass that the entire future of the in-
dustry whether it was to be an established, universal form of
entertainment, or merely a novelty to be displayed to the curious
in museums, beer gardens, and at country fairs was placed in
the hands of the cameraman. To him was assigned the task of
producing good photographs, while the industry awaited the out-
come of his efforts.
OTHERS WHO HELPED THE CAMERAMAN
Fortunately, the cameraman was not alone in his labors; for the
film manufacturer, realizing that the raw film was the very foun-
dation of good photography, worked on his chemicals and meth-
ods and emulsions until he evolved a stock that was faster, more
reliable, and contained a minimum of grain. The laboratory
workers and chemists also contributed toward the progress of the
art, perfecting their developing and printing methods and im-
proving the finishing of prints for projection. Further aid came
from cinematograph engineers, who turned their efforts to the
end of evolving better cameras, better printing machines, and
rock-steady, flickerless projectors. Finally, optical experts, wish-
ing again to prove their battle cry that "It's all in the lens,"
after careful study of the peculiar requirements of motion-picture
photography and projection contributed their quota in the form
of short-focus, high-speed anastigmat lenses and fool-proof opti-
cal systems for projection purposes.
All of which went to place the motion-picture film high in the
scale of photographic quality.
One concrete example serves to show what has been accom-
HOW THE CAMERAMAN WORKS IN THE STUDIO: IN EACH CASE THE
PATHE CAMERA IS SHOWN
90 The Cameraman and His Art
plished in cinematography during the past ten years. With but
few exceptions the domestic films of a decade ago were so in-
distinct that the faces of the players could hardly be made out.
Today a battle scene including hundreds of players is so clear
that every figure can be recognized on the screen. Yet each
of these figures appears as a pinhead in size on the film.
In the previous chapter we have learned something regarding
the motion-picture camera. But the description of the mechan-
ism was intended merely to outline the equipment as originally
furnished the cameraman. If plain cameras were employed to-
day, there would be none of the beautiful effects which charac-
terize our present productions. Wonderful silhouettes, vignetted
scenes, vision scenes, trick effects all these features simply could
not be.
Now, if ever there was an ingenious individual it is the expert
cameraman; for starting out with the camera as turned over to
him by the motion-picture engineers, he has forever been busy
improving its mechanism and developing any number of acces-
sories, so that his results exceed our fondest expectations of a
few years ago. The fact is that the average good cameraman is
an artist; but instead of pigments and brushes- he relies on various
mechanical contraptions designed and constructed during odd
moments. The director, also an artist to be sure, rather poses the
scene and animates it to interpret an author's thoughts; but it
remains for the artist of the camera to reproduce the scene in
all its beauty and even added beauty for the followers of the
screen.
So the cameraman is entitled to some credit for the success of a
photoplay. And that is why, of late, his name appears at the
beginning of film productions.
WHAT THE CLOSE-UP HAS MEANT IN PHOTOGRAPHY
Any sort of photography was good enough in the old days,
when the acting and the scenery were so mediocre that poor
photography .helped rather than handicapped. Seeing an old
re-issued film produced prior to 1910 explains graphically what
has been accomplished in every branc hof the industry; most
important of all, it shows the difference in the technique of then
and now. In those early days the actors were shown full length,
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The Cameraman and His Art
some distance away from the camera. Their faces did not always
show plainly, and even if they did the distance was too great to
rely on facial expression to carry the story. Exaggerated arm and
hand movements were relied upon to carry the idea; in truth,
Italian and French actors, being naturally most expressive with
their hands and arms and shrugs of the shoulders, were immedi-
ately successful in the films.
Then came the great step in photoplay production the close-
up. Directors had come to the conclusion that too much space
was being wasted in full-stage scenes; and, just as the editor of a
magazine or book takes a certain portion of a picture for his
illustration, which he calls the "meat," the directors came to take
the "meat" or essential of each scene. The actors who had hith-
erto had but little opportunity to act, now found ample oppor-
tunity for facial expression and the finest type of interpretation.
It was the cameraman who was hardest hit by the introduction
of the close-up, for it meant that his photography would have to
be far better than ever before. In fact, the close-ups were to be
veritable portraits of the players, nothing more or less. There
would have to be detail and plenty of it.
Despite the early opposition from directors and cameramen
alike, the close-up idea gradually spread till it became common
property. Today this photographic device is widely employed
in photoplays, and at least half the scenes of a representative
photoplay are close-ups.
Shortly after the close-up came the first effects of the long list
of photoplay devices, namely, the "fade-in" and the "fade-out."
Originally, the effect was employed to open a photoplay gradu-
ally and to close it at the end, the idea being to provide something
more pleasing than the rude and unbecoming opening and ending
then in vogue.
Simply explained, the fade-in is that effect wherein the film,
first black, gradually becomes lighter as it develops into a perfect
picture, thus forming a gradual and pleasing introduction to a
scene. The fade-out is just the reverse operation, with the film
showing a perfect picture which gradually darkens and finally
disappears in inky blackness.
No doubt the most
common effects in
films, the "fade-in"
and the "fade-out"
can be produced with
any camera by means
of the iris diaphragm
of the lens, as well as
by other means. Some
cameras, such as the
one above, have auto-
matic "fade-in" and
"fade-out" devices'
THE
'FADE-OUT" EFFECT AND A PITTMAN CAMERA EQUIPPED
WITH AN AUTOMATIC "FADE-OUT" DEVICE
94 The Cameraman and His Art
Both these effects are produced by simply using the lens
diaphragm of the camera. In the" fade-in the diaphragm, which
has been explained as a sort of light valve, "at first is completely
closed but is gradually opened so as to allow more and more light
to reach the film until the full amount of light is attained, while
in the fade-out the reverse procedure is followed out. Most
cameras are now provided with automatic devices that can be
set to fade-in or fade-out a scene in 5, 10, or 20 feet, according
to requirements. The cameraman merely sets the indicator at
the desired footage and cranks away without further attention,
knowing that the effect is being produced perhaps more evenly
than could be done by hand.
There are cameras, however, in which the diaphragm does not
close altogether, hence it is impossible to obtain a complete fade-
in or fade-out effect. In which case other means are sometimes
employed, among them a screen of graduated transparency which
slides in front of the lens, running from transparency to opaque
or vice versa, as the case may be. There are also certain chemical
means, one of which consists of placing the strip of film on an
inclined board and treating it with proper chemicals starting at
one end and allowing the ever-weakening solution to roll down
to the lower end. This last process is more in the nature of an
improvision, when a fade-out or fade-in must be produced in the
laboratory.
Now these effects have a most important application in joining
two scenes together so that one literally dissolves or flows into
the other. This result is achieved by first fading out a scene,
noting the footage allowed for the operation, and then winding
back the film so as to return it to the top magazine while the
lens is masked, only to fade-in the new scene in the same length
of film. Thus while one scene is growing gradually weaker the
following one is growing stronger; and by adjusting the degree
of overlap the dissolving effect can be altered as desired.
THE "CIRCLE VIGNETTE"
Numerous devices have followed the fade-in and fade-out,
since director and cameraman discovered that there were other
possibilities in film photography, aside from the regular run of
plain work. Film producers are always ready to try new effects,
The "circle vignette," or
"circle-in" and "circle-
out" is now a common
bit of technique, and
is employed in much
the same way as the
"fade-in", except that it
also serves to isolate part
of a scene for the pur-
pose of concentration.
The above device for
producing the "circle
vignette" effect is in-
tended for the Bell &
Howell Camera.
THE "CIRCLE VIGNETTE" AND A TYPICAL ATTACHMENT FOR PRO-
DUCING THIS EFFECT
96 The Cameraman and His Art
which, when they once appear on the screen, are immediately
copied by competing producers whose cameramen, after viewing
the novel effects, either deduce the method used or substitute one
of their own. In any event, no screen effect can long remain a
trade secret.
A recent photoplay device is the "circle vignette," or "circle-in"
and "circle-out," as it is sometimes called, by which is meant the
fading out of the corners and sides of a scene so that it no longer
has the sharp outline or rectangular frame which is often detri-
mental to an otherwise artistic picture. The circle vignette has
the tendency to blend the edges of certain scenes with the dark-
ness of the theatre, with the most artistic results.
While there are several ways of obtaining the circle vignette
effect, the most popular appears to be the use of an iris diaphragm
in front of the lens, which permits the field of the lens to be
altered from the rectangle to a circle of any size. As a variation
of the fade-in and fade-out, the circle vignette can be used to
circle-in and circle-out a scene. Thus a picture suddenly opens
up from blackness to a round scene of ever-increasing diameter
until the rectangular outline of the standard frame is attained
if carried out to the limit. It is as though the scene were beheld
through a hole of steadily-increasing size. The circle-in, as its
name indicates, is the reverse effect, with the picture dwindling
down to a pinhole and solid blackness.
Hard or soft edges can be obtained with circle vignette scenes,
depending on the distance between the iris diaphragm and the
lens. By bringing the former close to the lens it becomes so much
out of focus that the edges are blurred and soft and produce a
highly artistic border for a suitable scene.
Some cameramen prefer to make their own devices for vig-
nette effects, employing various materials which do not cut off all
the light rays. The most common of these devices are screens
prepared from ordinary portrait film, which is cleared or made
transparent and then dipped in an appropriate dye. When the
film is cleared and colored, a hole of the required size is cut in the
center or at any other selected point. Another method is to employ
sensitive portrait film which is exposed to the light and de-
veloped to the required point, fixed, washed and dried in the
usual manner. It is then shaped to meet requirements. Still
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The Cameraman and His Art
other screens are made of fine wire netting, so that a soft, blurred
edge is produced with a half-tone frame or border.
The square vignette accomplishes the same ends as the circle
vignette with the difference that it works as a square instead of
a circle. Mechanically, it comprises two overlapping blades with
a right-angle cut in the facing edges, so that the two form a
square opening of adjustable size depending on the degree of over-
lap. The blades are moved toward or away from each other by
a single lever. As seen on the screen the square vignette moves
the four sides of the picture toward the center or away from it,
simultaneously. Again, by adjusting the distance between the
blades and the lens, hard or soft edges can be obtained. The
square vignette can be employed for diamond effects by turning
its square opening at an angle to the usual rectangular frame.
Still another device is the curtain vignette, in which but two
sides are moved. It can be employed to cause the top and the
bottom or the sides of a picture to come together or draw apart.
By using only one side the effect of a rising curtain or a sliding
door is obtained. The curtain vignette can also be used, as is the
circle vignette, for isolating and vignetting some object, such as
a doorway, a single actor, and so on; in which case just the one
object is shown in a delicately vignetted or sharply outlined panel.
Mechanically, this device consists of two blades which are simul-
taneously moved toward or away from each other on the same
plane by means of a single lever.
HOW THE CAMERA MAKES TWO ACTORS OUT OF ONE
Double exposures, which are a source of never-ending awe to
the layman, are produced in several ways. One of these is by
means of companion masks or matts which make it possible to
expose certain parts of the film at a time. With matt No. 1, for
example, everything is exposed on the film surface with the ex-
ception of a small circular patch. When matt No. 2 is inserted
and the film has been returned to the top magazine while masking
the lens, the film is again exposed with the desired action coming
in the small circular patch which is now uncovered by the metal
mask. In this manner a vision effect is produced.
The matts come in a wide variety of designs, ranging from the
overlapping circles meant to represent the scene through a pair
This is the double-ex-
posure box or split-stage
attachment, included in
a circle-vignette device,
the entire combination
being clamped in front
of the camera lens.
Pieces of glass can be
inserted in the slot
shown. At the right is a
sample of double-expo-
sure film made with the
attachment.
ONE FORM OF SPLIT-STAGE BOX AND A TYPICAL STRIP OF FILM SHOWING
A PLAYER DOUBLED
100 The Cameraman and His Art
of binoculars, to the keyhole matt and star matt. These little
metal frames are placed in front of the film in the aperture or
"window."
In scenes where the same actor plays opposite himself the
"twin brother" stuff, so to speak the effect is secured by the
careful use of matched matts. First the man is placed on one
side of the stage, and his actions filmed in half of each frame by
means of the first matt ; and then the second matt is substituted,
the lens covered and the film wound back, and the actor takes his
place on the other half of the stage. The film is again exposed,
this time with the fresh half bared and the exposed half masked
by the second matt.
The proper synchronizing of the two halves is all-important.
The director has to time the first action and then coach the sec-
ond so that the two halves will match up. This is referred to as
"acting by counts." Otherwise the screen effect is apt to prove
ludicrous.
Another method of obtaining double exposures is by means of
the so-called double-exposure box, which consists of a light-proof
holder which takes a sheet of transparent glass that is used for
holding opaque disks and other forms for blocking out certain
sections of the film during two or more filmings. The same pro-
cedure is followed as with the matts, the main advantage of the
double-exposure box being that soft and not hard edges are pro-
duced between the subsequent exposures, as contrasted with the
matt method.
If a black space can be retained in the first filming, the matts
and double-exposure box can be dispensed with. In the second
filming the subject is registered in the unexposed section of the
film, producing a vision, dream, or other effect. If figures only
are to be shown in the vision or dream, these are photographed
against a black velvet or non-reflecting drop, making the use of
matts unnecessary in the second filming, and eliminating the
danger of a dividing line between exposures.
f
RETOUCHING PLAYERS AND SCENERY FOR THE CAMERA
In film work everything is considered in terms of black and
white. To this end the sets are generally prepared in black,
SAMPLE STRIPS OF FILMS SHOWING TITLES AND SINGLE AND MULTIPLE
PRINTINGS MADE IN THE LABORATORY
102 The Cameraman and His Art
brown and blue, although there are many cases where sets are in
full color.
White dazzling white is generally avoided in sets because
of its strong reflection and consequent fogging of the film, known
as hallation. Instead, a sky-blue or lemon yellow is substituted
for white; so that in reel life we find sky-blue or lemon yellow
sheets and pillows, table cloths and napkins. Even the players
wear sky-blue or yellow shirts and collars and ties and cuffs.
And the motion-picture bride is dressed not in spotless white
but in a brilliant yellow gown !
Motion-picture makeup is also in a class by itself, differing
totally from that of the legitimate stage. The possibilities of
color and the wonderful lighting effects of the stage are big fac-
tors when playing to an audience sitting many feet away. Dis-
tance never fails to lend enchantment. But in the case of the
screen star there are no colors, no flattering colored-lighting
effects combined with distance to help out. The camera must
be faced at short range, and it is always ready to exaggerate
every defect in the player's complexion during the telling close-
ups. Hence it boils down to a matter of facial camouflage.
Carmine must be sparingly used in photoplay makeup because
it photographs a dead black. Beautiful pink cheeks must often
l)e toned down for picture purposes by the liberal application of
yellowish creams and powders. Your buxom screen beauty pho-
tographs best when her makeup would brand her in real life as a
victim of jaundice, with her greasy, yellow face. Then the face
must be outlined here and there with blue pencil where the fea-
tures are weak, while the eyelids, to show at all, must be thickly
coated with cosmetic and lamp black until they are heavy and
beaded.
Makeup in photoplay production is largely a matter of the
individual player. Some players require practically no makeup,
while others have to spend much time before appearing before
the camera, lacking as they do a "camera face," or a face that
"photographs like a million dollars," to fall back on studio par-
lance.
The beauty of screen players is greatly enhanced by artistic
lighting. By means of the so-called back lighting, whereby the
light is thrown on the back of the player, the outlines and hair
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104 The Cameraman and His Art
of a player can be beautifully illuminated. Screens of special
reflecting cloth are also used to reflect light onto the players so
as to avoid sharp shadows.
The final authority on makeup and lighting is the skilled
cameraman, for he knows the limitations of his camera and film
and understands what any makeup and lighting mean when
translated into black and white. Makeup to him is a purely
mechanical process, and illumination is but a means to the end.
THE BUGABOO OF THE CAMERAMAN
Talk to a cameraman for a while and he will come around to
the subject of "static," which is the bete noir of most knights of
the crank. Static is a form of electricity which exists as a charge
on a body. The most familiar form is no doubt that which causes
paper to stick to the hands or to stick together during cold, dry
weather. In the motion-picture camera a static charge is often
generated in cold and dry weather by the moving of the celluloid
film through the mechanism. Tiny, lightning-like streaks, in-
visible to the naked eye but nevertheless having full effect on the
sensitive film emulsion, play about on the negative with the
result that when it is developed it is found covered with tree-like
streaks. There is no way of eliminating the static once it has
left its mark on the film. The streaks are photographed on the
film just as permanently as the regular exposures.
And so it is that tens of thousands of feet of film is spoiled
every year because of static. Many scenes are more or less
ruined by this phenomenon without the knowledge of the camera-
man until the film is developed at the laboratory.
There are about as many ways to eliminate static as there are
skilled cameramen. One will explain one sure way, while an-
other explains another but totally different sure way, while still
a third explains the only way; and so on without end. One of
the schemes used is to keep a moist sponge within the camera
when -there is danger of static, so as always to create enough
humidity to prevent static ; for static is generated in dry weather.
Another method is to employ a small steam boiler and alcohol
lamp, which introduces small quantities of steam into the camera
so as to provide the necessary moisture. Another method is to
"ground" the static; that is to say, the electric charge is carried
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106 The Cameraman and His Art
off to the earth before it can do any damage. For this purpose
an all-metal crank is employed and the static is presumably
grounded through the operator's hand to the earth.
Film manufacturers have tackled this problem of static and
have brought out certain kinds of negative film which are more
or less proof against static markings. One manufacturer calls
this special film X-back, and it is coated on both sides of the
celluloid base. Such film is used almost exclusively by com-
panies working in cold, dry climate.
But if you would interest a cameraman, always start by asking
him what he knows about static. That is bound to be the open-
ing wedge.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE
TT^EALISM IS one of the main stocks in trade of the
f*\. screen production. Compared with the speaking
stage, with its highly artificial scenery which lacks
correct perspective and general impressiveness, the motion
picture makes use of backgrounds both natural and
artificial which have depth as well as height and breadth.
The absence of colors is more than made up by the
general realism of the black-and-white picture. The
scenery of the entire world is available for the picture
play; and all the world's scenery can be brought to the
studio in these days of skilled screen artisans to whom
nothing seems impossible. Realism has made the success
of present photoplays; and the screen artisans have made
film realism what it is.
108 In the Land of Make Believe
THE audience is tense with excitement as the hero in the
film play struggles frantically with the control apparatus
of a submarine that is fast sinking to the ocean bottom,
because of the constantly rising water in its hold. And as he
struggles at his post the water pours in on him through an ugly
gash made in the conning tower of the craft by an enemy de-
stroyer.
Perhaps it is the climax in a gripping drama; then again, it
may be the big scene or "punch" in a hilarious comedy. But
however that may be, the realism of the scene has had the de-
sired effect with the audience. What dangers these motion-picture
folk incur! is the general comment of the unsuspecting public.
A SUBMARINE THAT NEVER SAW THE SEA
For weeks the artisans of the studio workshops had worked
in building this pseudo submarine; and before the camera crank
was turned the technical director had gone over every detail of
its construction to make certain that it emulated successfully
the interior of a modern submarine. Then the studio hands
built a tank around the scenery. The "set," as the scenery for
a motion-picture scene is called, was now ready for the players.
The director, being unable to carry out his program of photo-
graphing certain outdoor or "location" scenes on that day be-
cause of rain or poor light, decided to stay at the studio and
photograph the interior scenes called for in the scenario. After
rehearsing the action of this particular scene several times, the
lamps flashed up and the cameraman took his place by the side
of the camera.
At the command of the director one of the stage hands climbed
up on the deck of the "submarine," pulling a heavy hose after
him, which he placed in the opening of the conning tower. The
water was turned on and it flowed through the hose and passed
down in a heavy stream on the back of the actor playing the part
of the hero-sailor, struggling with the control mechanism of a
balky underwater craft. Now the water, bounded on all sides
by the improvised tank of wood and rubberized canvas, slowly
rose in the "submarine" interior. The camera, which all the
while was recording the action, was naturally so focused as to
DURING INCLEMENT WEATHER AN "OUTDOOR" SCENE CAN BE MADE
IN THE STUDIO WITH REALISTIC RESULTS
110 In the Land of Make Believe
take in only the desired portion of the setting the sides of the
tank did not show in the film.
And the scene was a success, because it was convincing.
Typical of the striving of all American producers for realism
is the foregoing. A half dozen years ago the audience of the
average picture theatre was not so critical as the audience of
today. Then motion pictures were still a novelty. The mere
fact that the pictures moved was alone worth the admittance
fee. Then a director depended solely upon a mediocre story and
mediocre acting to make a film production a success; whereas
today the director strives to reinforce these essentials with the
utmost realism of scenery. It is imperative, claim the producers,
that the pictures be replete with realism ; the audience must not be
permitted to recall the camouflage nature of the backgrounds,
for that would destroy their receptive state of mind. Indeed,
there are many photoplays in which the wonderfully realistic
backgrounds have unduly contributed toward their success. In
brief, the audience must be made to forget the mechanical end
of picture production; and to this end every effort is made to
have even the most insignificant details accurate and confidence-
inspiring.
JACKS AND MASTERS OF ALL TRADES
No motion-picture studio would be complete without its car-
penter shop and staff of expert workmen. There are so many
things that must be specially built for the pictures that a com-
plete equipment of woodworking and metalworking machines and
a skilled gathering of artisans are an absolute necessity.
It would be impossible to describe with any pretense to thor-
oughness the range of work turned out by the studio workshops.
It is only by offering a few examples of what they do regularly
that a general idea can be gained of the scope of their toil. One
day they may be building a safe of light wood or compressed
paper accurately made even to the bolt mechanism which
may bring forth roars of laughter from an audience at some later
time when it is dropped on the head of a comedian in a film play.
They may be called upon to build an airplane, closely following
the lines of a genuine machine that is to be used in the scenes of
actual flying. The workmen may perhaps spend one or two
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112 In the Land of Make Believe
weeks' toil in building the airplane, exercising much ingenuity in
its construction. As likely as not the tires of the landing gear
may be made from short lengths of rubber hose or canvas tube,
filled with sawdust. And the same degree of ingenuity may be
repeated a dozen times or more in the construction of this one
machine; all this work to appear for a few seconds on the screen,
and probably doomed to be blown to pieces or burned to ashes.
The men may turn to the construction of a mirth-provoking
hose-cart or fire-wagon for the fire department of some imaginary
rural community. Again, historical or so-called period plays may
keep the artisans busy building a replica of the first steamboat,
or making an old stage coach, or a Roman gladiator's weapons,
or even an ancient catapult to batter down Roman fortress walls
built of wood and plaster.
It's all in the day's work!
In a recent war play, four huge siege guns figured conspicu-
ously in the battle scenes between defenders and invaders. Each
gun was a faithful reproduction of the famous Krupp 28-centi-
meter siege howitzers, mounted on caterpillar wheels. When
this artillery was shown on the screen, even a military man un-
doubtedly had to take a second look in order to learn their true
nature. But to the lay audience the effect was perfect.
Made of wood and provided with an iron-lined barrel to with-
stand the flash powder used to simulate discharges, these guns
probably stood for the highest attainment of studio artisans up
till that time. At the detonation of a little powder in the iron-
lined barrel, the gun moved back with its recoil cylinders in the
most realistic manner. Ten thousand dollars each is said to
have been the cost of building these guns; yet what a convincing
touch they lent the photoplay !
The producer of a submarine story which in its main essentials
closely follows the theme of Jules Verne's "Twenty Thousand
Leagues Under the Sea," recently endeavored to secure the loan
of a United States submarine from the Navy, but without success
according to the story. Whereupon he set to work building a
submarine of sheet iron, with a length of over 100 feet, a beam
of 15 feet, and a draft of four feet. The shell had to be of suffi-
cient strength to withstand a submergence of over forty feet.
By means of ballast tanks the submarine could take on water in
i
HERE ARE THREE EXAMPLES OF THE FILM ARTISANS' HANDIWORK
OUT IN THE OPEN
Ill Iii the Land of Make Believe
order to settle down to the shallow sea bottom, while compressed
air tanks permitted of blowing out the water ballast when the
craft was to be brought up to the surface again.
The submarine, to continue the description, was also fitted with
a torpedo tube taking a regulation torpedo. In all, six months'
time was expended in building this submarine, which closely fol-
lowed the lines of the "Nautilus," the famous craft of Captain
Nemo. In fact, that may have been one reason why the pro-
ducer set to work building his own submarine, which followed
the description of the French author and was provided with a
lock in its bottom through which divers wearing self-contained
suits, could pass out to the ocean floor.
RAINSTORMS AND THUNDERSTORMS TO ORDER
In a certain production of the usual drama category, there was
to be a garden scene during a thunder storm. One of the features
of the scene was a driving rain; another, a flash of lightning.
The scenario called for these things: there was nothing else to
do but get them.
But this was comparatively simple to men who must build
whole cities and fortresses and bridges and mountains. An
airplane propeller was mounted on a substantial support, and to
it was applied through belting the power of an electric motor.
An artificial garden set was soon arranged and housed in a suit-
able shelter to make it dark the photographing took place on
the roof of the studio, on a bright, sunny day. Above the set
was arranged a trough, perforated with many holes to allow water
to drop below.
When everything was ready, the electric motor was started,
causing the airplane propeller to blow up a veritable hurricane
through the set. Stage hands with watering cans began to pour
water into the trough and rain began to fall on the shrubbery
below. Caught by the wind, much of the man-made rain was
violently blown across the stage, simulating a powerful, angry
gale. Then at the propitious moment another stage had set off a
flashlight, giving the desired effect on the film.
Which bespeaks well of the skill of the artisans of the screen.
Most of their work is done in wood and canvas, although occa-
sionally they resort to metal, as witness the submarine already
A PERFORATED TANK ABOVE THE SET AND A MOTOR-DRIVEN
PLANE PROPELLER MAKE A SCREEN STORM
AIR-
116 In the Land of Make Believe
mentioned. Papier mache, plaster of paris, compressed fiber and
clay are also employed in profusion, especially in the making of
statues, ornate panels, and other work of a similar nature.
The equipment of most motion-picture studios is usually such
as would do justice to a thriving wood- working shop and machine
shop combined. A typical comedy-producing studio in southern
California, for instance, has over $2,000 worth of woodworking
equipment in its carpenter shop, while the stock of lumber con-
stantly on hand and other items are said to bring the total up
to $4,000. The concern employs regularly over seventy-five
carpenters.
BUILDING INTERIORS TO FIT THE STORY
The interior settings of a film play require the closest attention
on the part of the producers. For here again the constant demand
for accuracy and realism is paramount. The smallest details
must be watched. If the director calls for a tenement house
scene, the stage carpenters must build him a dilapidated hall
and stairs, and small, squalid rooms. The scene must appear
much the worse from wear and old age the steps must look
worn; the walls must be marred, with here and there an ugly
crack and a gap showing the lath ; and dirt there must be a-plenty.
Again, if the director calls for the home of a rich man, it is
necessary that he state what kind of rich man the film author
had in mind. Is he a wealthy man from a family of long stand-
ing? Or is he a nouveau richef If he belong to the former class,
the furnishings are to be of a quiet, harmonious design, with the
paintings and other ornamentation going to reflect good taste and
wealth. If he belong to the latter class, the furnishings and
other details of the interior must be of the garish sort.
It does not necessarily follow that in real life a man of the
nouveau riche class must have garish taste, or a man born of
wealth, good taste, or a tenement must always have a run-down
appearance. But it is so in reel life, for there are certain well-
defined conventions in motion-picture production. Furthermore,
exaggeration is a necessary tool where nothing can be left to the
imagination of an audience.
ASKING THE TECHNICAL DIRECTOR HOW IT SHOULD LOOK
Obviously, it would not do to leave the selection of furnishings
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118 In the Land of Make Believe
and their proper arrangement to stage hands and carpenters,
and accordingly the demand for accuracy and realism has brought
into existence a new type of executive in the film industry the
technical director, or art director, as he is sometimes called.
To hiiti falls the task of reading through the synopsis or scenario
of a film story, followed by the planning and the supervision of
the erection of the sets. He is responsible for the arrangement of
the furnishings, even down to the smallest details, as well as for
the costuming of the players. However, he is not responsible
for the work of the actors ; that task remains, as ever, in the realm
of the director.
The technical director must be a veritable human encyclo-
paedia. His must be a remarkably broad knowledge, acquired
through travel, reading, and a wide range of acquaintances. And
what he does not know he must be able to "dig up" at short no-
tice. Here is a typical case of how his knowledge is applied:
If a scene is laid in a certain country and the time is different
from the present, he must know what garments the players are to
wear, the accouterments of the soldiers, the etiquette of the
period and country, the furnishings of the interiors, the head-
dress of the women, and a thousand- and-one other details.
Perhaps actual incidents are most convincing in illustrating how
the directors strive for accuracy, and how the absence of technical
direction may be fatal to an otherwise flawless production. The
story is told of how Irvin Cobb, the noted American writer, was
visiting a prominent Los Angeles studio while a director was re-
hearsing a scene of a war play in which a regiment of German
soldiers were marching through a Belgian village. To add what
he considered a touch of comfort and naturalness to the scene,
the director had the men leave their coats unbuttoned.
Mr. Cobb, then only recently returned from the war zone, was
horrified at this gross misrepresentation of facts. He did not
hesitate to tell the director that at no time do the Germans have
their coats unbuttoned while actually on the march or on duty.
The director was grateful for the information, for he realized the
humiliation that might have been his if the otherwise perfect
scene were held up to ridicule by the better-informed of the mil-
lions who would ultimately view the picture. At the same time
the author commented on the wearing of the Iron Cross decora-
So
120 In the Land of Make Believe
tion, which the director had insisted the men should wear con-
spicuously, whereas it is actually tucked away with only its
characteristic black and white ribbon showing. In view of these
two instances, can there be any doubt of the necessity of a tech-
nical director?
THE COST OF REALISM
To return to interior settings: These represent one of the big
items of expense in the production of a film. One reason is that
the average set can be used for one production only, after which
it must be dismantled. In the earlier days the audience might
not have commented on seeing the same pieces of furniture used
several times. But today the audience is more observing and will
soon detect any attempt to use the same lamp, settee, or other
furniture and furnishings repeatedly. Conspicuous repetition
has got to be avoided by the producers. And as in the instance
of the garments worn by the players, the furniture must be
in keeping with the last word in interior furnishings. This means
that every large studio maintains a large storage room or several
rooms in which an almost endless variety of furnishings are
always on hand.
The walls of an interior set are generally built of compressed
paper or light board, backed up with framework and props, to
facilitate the work of erection and destruction. Tremendous
quantities of the necessary materials are employed in the course
of a year, as witness some 50,000 feet or more of compressed
paper board used by a leading comedy producer, together with
over 500,000 feet of lumber. The same concern spends over
$1,800 for some 15,000 rolls of wall paper each year, with which
to cover the walls of its sets.
The cost of even the most modest set runs up into the hun-
dreds of dollars, for it must be remembered that practically
every set must be built and decorated to order, and filled with
the necessary furniture, which may not be used for a long time
to come. Elaborate sets run up into the thousands of dollars.
A good restaurant or carbaret scene may cost from $2,000 to
$5,000, depending upon its elaborateness and size. A setting call-
ing for intricate electric lighting effects sometimes exceeds the
$5,000 mark; for instance, the witches' scene in a certain produc-
122 In the Land of Make Believe
tion of "Macbeth/' is said to have cost over $10,000 because of
the elaborate apparatus for producing the wierd fire effects.
IN THE LAND OF TWO-DIMENSIONED STRUCTURES
It is in the outdoor sets, however, that the film artisan finds
his biggest field of endeavor. For under the open skies his
undertakings are not hindered by space limitations and can there-
fore assume the most gigantic proportions. Here again, however,
the question of realism is the first consideration; here, too, the
technical director must exercise his knowledge, but in this case
it is architectural design in particular that he must know.
Perhaps the greatest set that has ever been constructed up
until the time of writing was one representing the ancient city of
Babylon, used in a gigantic production. On the front of this
huge setting the side that faced the motion-picture camera
there rose high walls painted to simulate stone, 100 feet in height
and adorned with reliefs of strange winged creatures and stand-
ing elephants. The towers in this set stood 135 feet high, and the
various structures covered a ten-acre tract of land in Hollywood,
California, just outside of Los Angeles. For more than six
months the carpenters, masons, concrete workers and painters
were busied with the set, and the cost of the work is reported to
have been in excess of $50,000.
But slightly less pretentious was the set erected at an approxi-
mate cost of $35,000, representing the palace, house of parliament,
prison, royal court, and adjacent buildings in a mythical capital
featured in a war photoplay. The first spadeful of .earth in
preparation for the erection of the set was turned in May, 1915.
The completed set was ready for use in November of the same
year. Into its construction went thirty carloads, or approxi-
mately 600,000 feet, of lumber. Glass valued at a total of $4,000
was necessary for the several hundred windows, while tons upon
tons of cement and plaster were used as the other principal ma-
terials. For the steps of the largest building alone, ten tons of
cement were used. The sidewalks, with their curbings, measured
some 1,200 feet, and twenty men were employed for three months
laying them out and arranging the parking between. Trees,
shrubbery and lamps were among the ornaments placed within
the boundaries of the set. In sum, covering an area of over six
BEHIND THE SCENES AND WHAT THE CAMERA REALLY SAW IN THE
CASE OF A SET WHICH COST $35,000 TO BUILD
124 In the Land of Make Believe
and one half acres, the set has stood atop one of the hills in
southern California, enduring the elements successfully as though
it were intended as a permanent structure. Like most motion-
picture sets, it is primarily a "front"; for the rear view is not
unlike that of an outdoor advertising sign.
It is principally in portraying foreign scenes that the film arti-.
sans are called upon to build elaborate sets. Years ago when the
industry was very young and very crude, companies traveled
abroad in order to produce plays at the actual locations called
for in the scenario. That was their way of securing realism.
Today, in marked contrast, the producers find it easier to bring
the foreign or distant spots to the studio, literally speaking. By
paying extra attention to minute details and sparing no expense,
the producers are able to convince any audience no matter how
critical it may be.
So all parts of the world have been brought to the foothills of
California, the shores or Florida, and the Palisades of New
Jersey, where producers have better laboratory facilities, under-
stand the light conditions, can secure all the experienced players
they require and save time and money.
Typical instances of foreign sets erected "somewhere in Amer-
ica" have been the barracks of Delhi, India, and a street scene in
a village of a mythical country, both of which were recently
erected and used by a Western producer. The former consisted of
seven individual structures and entailed an expenditure of $3,000;
the latter represented a street lined with houses of solid con-
struction. The houses were made of plaster-covered timbers,
while the stone walls and trees were handled with great care to
obtain correctness of detail. The entire set required about six
weeks to build and involved an -outlay of perhaps $5,000.
There is practically no end to the elaborate outdoor sets erected
by motion-picture producers. Of the film production of "Ra-
mona," it is said that over 1,800 sets were erected; the Spanish
monastery built for this photoplay alone cost some $10,000.
A commendable piece of work was the set representing the
temple of an Aztec monarch in the sixteenth century, which was
used in a recent production. Its framework was built of timbers,
but the body was of plaster plaques. About 7,000 pieces were
required, and the total cost of the set is said to have been $3,000.
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126 in the Land of Make Believe
A set representing a border town on the line separating Mexico
from the United States and used in a typical Western drama was
recently erected at a cost of $1,500. It consisted of fifteen build-
ings, each entirely of frame construction. While the cost of the
village was not great, at the time it was regarded as one of the
most realistic sets ever built for the screen, because it was more
than a mere " front."
There is no end of sets which might be described; but enough
has been said to convey a fair idea of the work of the film artisan
or camoufleur of the screen.
MAKING THE MOST OF EXISTING THINGS
Most assuredly, the building of a convincing set is an accom-
plishment. But is it not more of an accomplishment to make the
most of existing things to change a hill into a pyramid, a row of
telegraph poles into a line of polar trees to simulate a shaded
road so typical of France, and a farm house into a Norman
castle?
When the film artisan can do otherwise, he does not go to the
trouble and expense of building a set. Although huge sums of
money are expended in picture production, to be sure, still, every
cent is saved that can possibly be saved. Popular belief to the
contrary notwithstanding, motion-picture production is like any
other business: there must be a certain ratio between expenses
and revenue. So wherever money can be saved by making use
of existing scenery, so much the better.
It requires considerable ingenuity and an artistic eye to con-
vert prosaic things into motion-picture settings. For instance,
for a recent picture a little hill in southern California was con-
verted into an Egyptian pyramid. How was it done? Well,
quite simply when you know how. The scenery men merely
built steps on opposite sides so that when the hill was photo-
graphed against the setting sun, a perfect silhouette of a pyramid
some 200 feet in height, resulted. Of course, to make a conven-
tional picture of this camouflage pyramid would have been to
expose its improvised nature; but in this case as in many others
the cameraman came to the rescue.
In a film production dealing with the life of Joan of Arc, the
director required a road bordered with tall, stately poplar trees,
TWO MORE VIEWS OF THE LUSITANIA SET, SHOWING THE SHIP
COURSE OF CONSTRUCTION AND AS SHE LOOKED COMPLETED
IN
128 In the Land oj Make Believe
so typical of certain parts of France. He wanted the road in a
hurry; most directors want the most unreasonable kinds of sets
in a hurry, giving the scenery hands but a few hours' notice !
Fortunately, the location director knew of a straight road lined
with tall telegraph poles. And he also knew of a place where
stately poplar trees could be obtained. A few hours later there
was a poplar tree lashed to every telegraph pole on that road;
and from the camera's point of view, when the filming took place,
there was no sign of those ugly reminders of the ubiquitous
telegraph.
Another director one morning discovered that his scenario
called for a Southern dirt road passing by a corn field. The
scene was to be "shot" that afternoon. He so notified the film
artisans, who, despite their calm demeanor, were in this instance
quite worried. Where were they to find a dirt road? Where a
corn field in this part of California? They could build a road, to
be sure; but corn could not be faked or grown in a few hours'
time.
The location director looked up his records and discovered a
certain corn field some distance away, situated on a concrete
highway. A short time later a motor truck was speeding toward
that rare thing the corn field, carrying a load of dirt surmounted
by a squad of laborers. Arriving at the corn field, he laborers
set to work dumping and spreading the dirt over the concrete
highway until it disappeared under a perfectly convincing South-
ern dirt road. Then the director came and "shot" the scene;
after which the laborers removed the dirt and restored the road
to its former status.
Another trick of the camoufleurs of the screen was to convert
a farm house and water tower into a Norman castle. Crowning:
the top of a hill, these homely structures stood out in bold sil-
houette against the setting sun. By the addition of some apple
boxes about the roof and water tank, and some canvas to hide
the skeleton framework of the tower, an excellent silhouette was
obtained of a medieval castle.
DECEIVING THE OTHERWISE TRUTHFUL CAMERA
Were the motion-picture camera permitted to tell everything
concerning motion-picture settings, there would be no such thing
IN ORDER TO USE THIS IMPOSING RESIDENCE FOR THEIR PICTURES, THE
FILM FOLK DID SOME LANDSCAPE GARDENING AS SHOWN
130 In the Land of Make Believe
as convincing backgrounds. But that's just it: the camera is
fooled !
A multitude of sins can be covered over with a little smoke or
haze when making a picture. For instance, in many a battle
scene the audience perceives the action through a heavy haze
which if anything lends a real martial touch to the picture; when,
as a matter of fact, the director, not finding all the details quite
up to the mark, ordered yellow smoke pots to be burned so as to
subdue the details. Yellow smoke is a first--aid remedy in filming
some sets, especially when making use of improvised back-
grounds; for the keen eye of the camera is then sufficiently
blurred so that the imagination of the audience must supply what
is lacking in the way of details.
Silhouette photographs, too, are a great aid in making use of
improvised backgrounds. Whereas the entire set would have
to be properly built and colored if the usual photograph were
made, in the case of a silhouette only the outlines count: the
mass in black against a light background has little detail. And
what is more, the audience generally imagines it is receiving a
genuine treat when a silhouette is included. In some cases it is;
but most of the time the reason is utilitarian rather than esthetic.
After all, the cameraman, knowing the peculiarities of his
camera, can be of big help to the sorely tried film artisans.
Essentially, a photoplay is a picture; and all pictures require
backgrounds. Pretty backgrounds make good pictures. Hence
it is small wonder that the subject of sets and locations enters
so extensively in the production of films.
CHAPTER VII.
THE BIRTH-PLACE OF THE
MOTION PICTURE
ECAUSE motion pictures are something of the
nature of art, even if a manufactured product in a
business sense, they are produced in a studio, not a
factory. A queer thing indeed, this motion-picture
studio. It is a meeting place for the artistic and the
commercial; the temperamental director works in perfect
harmony with the hard-headed producer who thinks of a
photoplay in the terms of production costs and sales
revenue. Raw film enters the studio and is subsequently
converted into animated film which brings the work of
many players to theatres far and wide. Everything is at
hand in the studio for the cann ing of dramas and comedies .
132 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
BACK in the early days of motion pictures almost anything
served as a studio. What is claimed to have been the
first studio in America, for instance, was erected by the
Edison Company in 1905. It was a roughly constructed building-
measuring about 20 by 25 feet and covered with tar paper. It
was placed on a revolving stage so that it could be swung around
to follow the sun; and it was also mounted on a truck so as to
be transportable from place to place. This pioneer studio was
familiarly called the "Black Maria" by members of the company.
Then there was the early Vitagraph studio on the roof of a
New York office building. In fair weather the scenery, painted
by one of the proprietors of the company, was hastily assembled
so as to form a "corner" covered by the field of the camera, while
the light was furnished by the sun.
Other concerns had studios little more elaborate. Many of
them had platforms standing next to barns or tumbled-down
buildings that served as a storage place for the scenery and fur-
nishings, and as a shop for the scene painters, a laboratory for
the cameraman, an office for the producers, and dressing rooms
for the players.
THE STUDIO A PLACE TO KEEP OUT OF THE RAIN
But all that was in the early days of the industry, when a pro-
ducer got out a film whenever the spirit moved him and when
his pocketbook permitted. There were no release dates in those
days: a producer could issue his film at any time, knowing full
well that there was a hungry mob of motion-picture theaters
waiting to grab his film and grind it through their machines.
So the early producers made pictures whenever and wherever
they pleased. During rainy weather or when the light was poor,
they stopped work; and when they were blessed with beautiful
weather they hurried through as many scenes as the crudeness
of their handiwork permitted. When the industry issued from
its infancy, however, and became a robust and full-grown and
universally-recognized business, producers soon had to get down
to a schedule basis. Motion-picture theaters, dealing through
exchanges or film brokers, insisted on having films at regular
intervals; and rain or shine the film producers had to turn out a
specified number of films each week or each month.
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134 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
To keep out of the rain, so to speak, film producers built them-
selves special structures or studios in which to carry on their
work, irrespective of the weather. These structures are gen-
erally of steel framework, covered on all sides and on the roof
with sheets of translucent glass, so as to admit the maximum dif-
fused daylight. In fact, the average studio is more like a hot
house than anything else, and acre after acre of glass surface is
represented in the so-called daylight studios of many a motion-
picture colony.
One's first visit to a motion-picture studio is almost bound to
be a disappointment. For some reason or another one expects
to find a comfortable and orderly sort of a place, with the players
alternately lounging about and acting amid comfortable sur-
roundings. But to the horror of the visitor the studio is a rather
cold kind of a place: it is vast in area and the ceiling is high; the
sets, to his great disappointment, are only fronts, and end
abruptly in crude wooden braces and ugly lamp stands where
the vision of the camera ceases; the actors hurry through their
parts and then sit about watching the director go through an-
other scene, or disappear to their dressing rooms; the sets are
arranged or rather disarranged any which way, with here
and there and everywhere a pile of discarded scenery; and, lastly,
huge batteries of lamps pour out a ghastly and trying light on
the sets and players, while one has to be careful not to stumble
over the maze of electric cables. Indeed, the average studio is
far from the cozy place one would imagine by the films.
Yet all this is perfectly correct. After all, a studio has but
one raison d'etre, and that is to produce pictures. Pictures, on
the other hand, call for backgrounds and for action, and if those
prerequisites are at hand all is well with the producer.
DAYLIGHT AND NEAR DAYLIGHT
The glass studio affords ideal light for motion-picture photog-
raphy during clear weather, for the daylight, passing through the
translucent roof and sides, is so diffused as to eliminate shadows
and produce even illumination. In order to control this light
curtains are arranged along the sides and above the sets, so that
any degree of illumination may be immediately obtained.
When daylight fails him, however, the producer merely
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switches on as many electric lights as may be required. Indeed,
the greater part of the time electric lamps are employed because
of the ease with which they can be arranged and controlled so as
to produce those wonderful lighting effects which play such an
important part in present-day photoplays.
There are many different types of electric lamps in use to-day.
Perhaps the earliest type of all, and one that is still used to some
extent, is the arc lamp, which gives a blue-white light of great
intensity. Such arc lamps are arranged in batteries of five or
more above the set, and in batteries of five or ten at the sides
and in front. The pioneer producers troubled themselves very
little with the arrangement of the lamps, for their only concern
was whether there was sufficient illumination to produce a prop-
erly exposed negative. To-day, however, the cameraman and
directors are most particular concerning the placing of the lamps,
for the illumination, as we have read in the chapter dealing with
actors, has much to do with the beauty or ugliness of the players.
Lighting, at present, is an important phase of producing, and
every day the directors and cameramen are learning something
new along this line.
The arc lamps employed are, of course, self- feeding; that is to
say, as the carbon pencils which they burn become shorter
through consumption, they are fed toward each other in order to
maintain the proper gap. So from the time the arcs are switched
on until they are shut down, they require no attention whatso-
ever. But the flicker of the arcs is at times troublesome, as is
also the great volume of heat which interferes with the players.
It is the mercury-vapor or Cooper-Hewitt lamp, therefore, that
is the most generally employed to-day. This lamp is the familiar
slender tube which emits a greenish or bluish light, often seen in
public buildings, photographic studios, and in factories. Why
the mercury-vapor lamp should be first in the motion-picture
field is simple to understand, when once its light is examined with
the spectrum, an instrument which analyzes the various colors
contained in any given source of light. It is a fact that the mer-
cury-vapor gives out a light that is especially rich in blues, ultra-
violet and other colors rich in actinic properties, while it is re-
markably free from those colors approaching the red end of
the spectrum, which are very poor photographic rays. All in all,
THE CEILING AND FLOOR OF A MODERN EASTERN STUDIO, SHOWING
THE LAMPS ON TROLLEYS AND THEIR RELATION TO THE SETS
138 The Birth-Placc of the Motion Picture
then, the Cooper-Hewitt light of a given strength contains the
maximum actinic or real photographic value, and at the same
time the illumination is not as trying on the eyes of the players
as are other types. Furthermore, mercury-vapor lamps require
little attention, and there is nothing that can get out of attention.
Mounted in batteries these tube can be readily shifted about.
Of late years experiments have been made with incandescent
lamps of the nitrogen-filled tungsten-filament type, and while
these lamps are good for motion-picture work, they possess no
real advantage over other types already in use. In order to
secure the maximum actinic light with the minimum glare, blue-
glass bulbs are used, giving a light that approximates daylight.
Again, the lamps are overloaded; that is to say, the voltage is
ten volts or more higher than it should be, in order to secure a
white-hot filament and to reduce still further the small per-
centage of red rays. The one advantage that can be claimed
for incandescent lamps is their low first cost, although it is true
that their installation calls for the least amount of trouble, as
does also their upkeep.
No matter what type of lamp is employed, the arrangement
is generally the same. There are the floor stands, carrying a
battery of lamps and provided with casters so that they can be
readily moved about from one part of the studio to another.
Electrical connections are made by means of heavily insulated
flexible cable, with connecting sockets and plugs at either end.
The lamps above the set are also mounted in battery, and in the
more modern studios are arranged on a sort of trolley so that
they can be moved to any place on their steel-girder tracks.
Vast quantities of electricity are required in providing illumi-
nation for the average set, which may not measure more than
20 by 20 feet in area. But it should be remembered that we are
dealing with instantaneous photographs snapshots of from
l/25th to l/50th second exposure, and that powerful light is
necessary for this purpose. In fact, we are replacing the good
old sunshine, and it is only when we try to replace that great
source of light that we appreciate how powerful it is. To be
definite, a small set may require as much as 80 kilowatts to
illuminate it, depending upon the size, of course, and the color of
the objects and scenery. Needless to say, motion-picture studios
THE WONDERFUL LIGHTING EFFECTS OF THE FILM PICTURES ARE
OBTAINED BY LAMP STANDS SUCH AS THESE
140 The Birth-Placc of the Motion Picture
are the very best customer a power supply company can hope for.
They burn up current by the wholesale, as it were; and they work
during daylight, when power companies have the least call for
their product and when they are most in need of customers.
A MATTER OF FLOOR SPACE
The various directors of a producing company work inside and
outside, as explained in a previous chapter. As they require cer-
tain interior sets they give their orders to the studio hands who
erect the desired sets or stages, under the supervision and direc-
tion of the art or technical director, if the organization is a par-
ticular one. Once the set is ready, the director proceeds to make
full use of it, "shooting" all the scenes calling for that particular
setting.
Floor space is at a premium in most studios, and sets must be
removed as soon as possible. Usually this is feasible, but there
are certain productions whose preparation extends over many
months, in which it is not feasible to dismantle the sets until the
films are completed. In one instance of this kind, namely, a
famous serial film of the mystery variety, the final episode .of
which was to be suggested by the public, the sets were left
standing for the better part of the year. Now the producing
studio, while of fair capacity, had over half of its floor space
tied up with these sets; yet so important was it to the director
to have his continuity perfect throughout the episodes of this
serial that the sets were left standing.
In another studio the matter of clearing sets is considered a
paramount one. To this end the cameramen are provided with
individual dark rooms, so as to test their "takes." As soon as a
scene has been "shot," the cameraman films a few feet of negative
over the required amount, which he cuts in the dark room and
develops. If the photography is satisfactory, the director orders
the set dismantled. In this manner the floor of the studio, big
as it is, is never cluttered up with numerous sets. On the other
hand, it would not be safe to dismantle a set before the negative
was developed and found perfect.
The various sets in a studio are suggestive of small stalls, with
here and there an occupied one where a director and his as-
sistants, together with a cameraman, are putting several actors
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through their parts. There is generally litle privacy, for elec-
tricians and carpenters and visitors flock about the front or cam-
era end of the set and watch on. The heroine may be acting the
role of the child-wife alone with her brute of a gambler-husband
in a log cabin ten thousand miles away from the nearest civilized
post, yet ten feet away her spectators are watching and audibly
commenting on her work. But she must be so intent on her work
that she can concentrate and act, forgetting about her motley
audience.
In certain studios, however, the matter of privacy has been
considered carefully. Instead of permitting onlookers to stand
about, each set is entirely closed in by a folding screen about the
front end, shutting off the players, director and cameraman from
the outside world. Again, other studios either do not permit
visitors in their premises, or provide sight-seeing balconies from
which the visitors can view the work without in any way inter-
fering with the personnel.
CALIFORNIA WEATHER AND DOLLARS AND CENTS
The first producer to go to California was at once struck with
the ideal climatic conditions existing there for motion-picture
work. He soon told others, and one by one film producers found
their way to southern California until Los Angeles became the
Mecca of all film men. To-day that city is the center of the
industry, for over 75 per cent of the domestic films are produced
in and about Los Angeles.
California weather has a certain dollars-and-cents meaning
to the film producer. For it is a fact that he can count on good
weather more than three hundred days out of each year, and
that means not only plenty of opportunity for outside work, but
his studio need consist of little more than a wooden outdoor stage
with a few light diffusers. Compared to the Eastern glass-en-
closed studio costing tens of thousands of dollars, the California
film plant is an inexpensive proposition. And that is why so
many producers- are located out there.
Still, there is a vast field of usefulness for the Middle- West or
Eastern studios, because of the better facilities for finishing and
distributing the films. Much time is saved by having the studios
and laboratories close at hand. Again, by using the Eastern
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144 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
studios in the summer the players have a complete change of
locale.
The workings of a California studio are practically the same as
a studio in the East. Of course, the elaborate electrical equipment
of the Eastern studios is not required under the Western skies
under normal conditions. The sets are erected in the open on
large wooden stages, while canvas strips travelling on beams
under the pull of ropes can be adjusted to diffuse the bright
sunlight falling on the sets.
Even so, California studios generally have a small glass-en-
closed studio for use in adverse weather, rare as it is. Also, in
instances where a film must be completed within a limited time
and night work is necessary, the glass-enclosed studio with its
batteries of lamps is employed.
Practically every studio, unless it is situated in the heart of a
thickly populated city, has its yard or extensive grounds, where
certain outdoor sets can be erected. The grounds are generally
termed the "lot," and directors and players arc said to be at
w r ork "on the lot."
The stages, while the most conspicuous part of a studio, in
reality are but a small part of a motion-picture plant. To begin
with, there are the rooms where are kept the various furnishings
for the sets. These rooms, known as the property rooms, vary in
size according to the magnitude of the producing organization.
The average large studio often has $25,000 worth of furniture on
hand, not to speak of the almost endless stock of bric-a-brac,
frames, draperies, glasses, bottles, curtains, and so on.
Little by little real system is finding its way into the motion-
picture industry. The small studios of ten years ago were
thought by their operators to be efficiently run. In those days
they went out and bought such furniture as they needed for a
picture setting, and used the same furniture as often as they
could. Five years ago the producers again bought furniture for a
set, but when it was stored away in the property room it stayed
there as often as not for a mighty long time. And the sole reason
was that no one knew just what was in the property room save
the property man, and he didn't bother to tell the directors what
was available unless they took particular pains to ask him.
To-day things are being run far more systematically. The
THERE IS NO END TO THE COLLECTION OF THE PROPERTY MAN.
AFTER YEAR HIS "PROPS" BECOME MORE NUMEROUS
YEAR
146 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
more modern studios have every piece of property carefully
photographed and indexed. The director or art director, when
planning a scene, orders his property by number. Such items as
vases, for instance, are all photographed in groups and each piece
is numbered. Thus the director asks for vase No. 16, pictures
Nos. 534, 682, 4 and 16, table No. 82-A, couch No. 43-C, Victrola
No. 3-V, and so on.
That, in brief, is system. It is fast invading every studio, for
the day has come when film producing no longer can be carried
on in a haphazard manner and still make a profit for the pro-
ducer. Leaks must be stopped, because stern competition has
made the motion-picture business a matter of dollars and cents,
the same as any other legitimate industry.
A SHOP WHERE NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE
Then there is the workshop of the studio, where special prop-
erty is constructed. Here toil perhaps the most clever and in-
genious artisans in the world, for no matter what may be asked
of them they never fail to make good. Thus the director may
call for a section of a sewer, a dummy automobile, a Roman
chariot, or a model battlefield, to be ready the next morning at
nine o'clock. And at nine o'clock the next morning it is ready for
him. Indeed, the film artisans, of whom the author has had
much to say in a preceding chapter, know absolutely nothing of
the word "can't."
Generally the film artisans are under the supervision of an
old-time theatrical set builder, for to conceive and execute the
multitudinous and diversified sets of a motion-picture studio calls
for the greatest of ability and experience in stage effects. Orders
come to the property man in all sorts of shapes, varying from ten
words of a leading director to the elaborate drawings and sketches
of the art director. In the case of elaborate scenes where a great
deal of money has to be spent, the set is generally worked out
in cardboard for the study and approval of the art director, after
which it is executed full size. At times the work of the artisans
is in miniature, such as a model of the French city of Orleans
with two thousand miniature soldiers of Joan of Arc walking in
on invisible webbing running on rollers a model so cleverly made
that no one would suspect it to be anything but genuine when
FROM MODEL BATTLESHIPS TO DUMMIES AND AGAIN TO PLASTER
STATUES EXTENDS THE WORK OF THE FILM ARTISANS
H8 The Birth- Place of the Motion Picture
flashed on the screen, although it so happened that the film story
of Joan of Arc did not require this scene. At other times the
work is outdoor and on a vast scale, such as the erection of a
village at a cost of tens of thousands of dollars.
Plaster is one of the favorite methods of the film artisans or
shall we call them camoufleurs? For they seem to be able to do
almost anything with plaster of paris. One reason why this
material is so largely used is the ease with which a large number
of duplicate parts may be turned out. Supposing, for instance,
that an Egyptian temple is to be constructed, calling for a large
number of huge stones. The camoufleurs set to work making a
wooden mould for the facing of the "stone," and when this is
made they are ready to turn out the plaques in large numbers.
The plaster, in liquid state, is first poured into the mould, after
which shredded fiber or hairy consistency is placed on the liquid
mass and gently pressed in. More plaster is poured over this,
and after allowing the mass to harden for half an hour, the
plaque may be removed and allowed to dry out thoroughly in
the sun.
There are other ways of making moulds, especially in the case
of complicated designs, such as ornamental corner posts, column
tops, and so on. The design is first worked up in clay, after
which the model is enclosed in a plaster casing so as to form a
mould. Melted glue or gelatin is then poured in between the
model and the plaster casing. When hardened to a rubbery con-
sistency, the glue mould is carefully stripped from the clay model
and then used for casting as many plaster replicas as may be
desired.
Sometimes the artisans work directly in plaster with sculptor's
tools, producing all manner of beautiful work. Obviously, all their
efforts are doomed to be temporary, for plaster at best is but a
passing material. But as soon as their work has appeared in the
sets for which it was intended, its raison d'etre has been realized.
It is then doomed to destruction, either immediately by the
makers themselves or in the course of a short time by the ele-
ments.
Scene painting is part of the work of the film camoufleurs. Most
studios set aside a small section of the studio for the scene paint-
ers. This section, or slice, to use a better term, is often a room
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measuring five feet wide by one hundred feet long and twenty or
more feet in height. The scenery, in the form of canvas nailed on
wooden framework, is mounted on a carrier which may be raised
or lowered through a slot in the floor; in this manner the scene
painters, while remaining on the floor, can reach any part of the
huge canvas by raising or lowering the scenery.
Aside from the scene room, huge storage space is required for
the storing of the scenery. It often happens that the same scenery
can be employed again, or, in the case of a serial film, the same
scenery is called for some months later. So hundreds of old
sceneries are to be found stored away in some out-of-the-way
corner of the studio.
To those not familiar with studio activities it may be of interest
to know something of the quantities of materials used in the
course of one year. Earlier in this book such a list was given, but
only for a few of the more common materials. Here is another
list, applying to fifty-two pictures produced by a leading or-
ganization: 1,500,000 feet of lumber, 12,000,000 nails, 100,000
screws, 5,000 locks, hinges and door knobs, 75,000 feet of wall
paper, 1,500 gallons of paint, over 100,000 pieces of furniture,
and 300,000 props. There was consumed in lighting these sets
1,000,000 amperes of current, also 1,500,000 feet of film and a
countless number of horses, cows, sheep, goats, birds, goldfish,
dogs and oxen were employed. As for bears, snakes, racoons,
lions and elephants, the number of these animals used would equip
the Barnum and Bailey circus several times over.
In the matter of interior scenery, system is again encountered.
Only a few years ago directors called for elaborate wall paper
which they selected from the catalogue of some expensive wall-
paper manufacturer. Perhaps the paper would cost $1.00 a yard,
yet when it came to be filmed the results were miserable, because
the design or color scheme did not lend itself to being photo-
graphed.
But all this has changed in the more progressive studios. Per-
haps not more than a dozen wall paper designs have been chosen
after careful photographic trials, and these are photographed
again and indexed and cards so that a director can get just what
he desires, knowing at a glance just how the wall paper will
appear in his film scene. There is no ground for disappointment
ELECTRICIANS AND CARPENTERS PLAY A LARGE PART IN ALL PHOTO-
PLAY PRODUCTION
152 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
later. And the wall paper may cost 15 cents a roll instead of
$1.00 as before!
WHERE CELLULOID STRIP IS ANIMATED
So far this description has only taken us through those depart-
ments directly connected with the staging of the films. There
still remain the dressing rooms for the players, which vary
from the spacious and elaborate dressing rooms for the stars to
the small rooms of the "extras." But in almost every studio
worthy of the name there are all kinds of accommodations for the
players, from the highest to the lowest, such as baths, showers,
electric light, hot and cold water, and proper dressing quarters.
For the film producer, like any other business man, long ago came
to realize the fact that the players are his mainstay: he cannot
get along without them, and to treat them right is to secure the
best results.
Practically every studio of any size has its own developing
and printing departments, unless it is but a branch or an isolated
company of players far removed from the parent organization,
when the film is generally developed on the grounds, projected,
and if found satisfactory shipped to the home laboratory for
printing. In this manner the director can tell whether his work
is satisfactory before proceeding with the other work in hand.
So much for the regular run of studios. But there is one city
in the world which is entirely devoted to the producing of motion
pictures a city of 15,000 souls and extending over some 800
acres. It is the only one of its kind in the world, yet it has no
characteristics since it can turn into Rome, Athens, Petrograd,
Paris, Madrid, Cairo, New York, or any other city over night.
In brief, it is but a collection of backgrounds.
A CHAMELEON CITY THE BACKGROUND METROPOLIS
A short trolley ride out of Los Angeles brings one to the gates
of a motion-picture city, or call it chameleon city, if you please.
It is located in the beautiful San Fernando Valley of southern
California with every climatic advantage a director could wish
for. Indeed, within an hour's ride the director has the entire
range of climates from the tropical to the temperate and then to
the arctic. The latter, strange as it may seem, is to be found on
INTERIOR SCENES CAN READILY BE MADE BY THE COMPANIES OUT IN
THE FIELD, WITHOUT A CONVENTIONAL STUDIO
154 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
top of lofty Mount Lowe, which is readily accessible by trolley
car.
But the main object of this motion-picture city has been to
keep the directors on the "lot"; that is to say, almost every kind
of background is at hand in the studio grounds. To that end
every building has been designed with a four- or five- fold useful-
ness in mind. Every side is of a different type of architecture
and usually represents a different kind of usefulness. For in-
stance, a shelter designed primarily for a saddlery shop and a
blacksmithy has a front elevation that is in keeping with the
nature of the building. From the other three angles, however, it
has the appearance of a Gothic hunting lodge, military barracks,
and a Wild West ranch house. In addition to this, any one of
these front elevations can be changed over night to represent an
entirely different kind and character of building. And the same
idea has been carried out throughout the city.
There are numerous waterways through the grounds, including
a large lake; and where the natural ones have not proved of
sufficient pictorial value, others have been constructed by the
film camoufleurs for the convenience of directors and cameramen.
The bridges which cross the waterways are, following the general
rule of the city, convertible. That is to say, any bridge at short
notice can be converted into any type of bridge that may be
desired by the director, whether it be a high-arched Japanese
bridge, a steel bridge, a wooden bridge, or a Venetian bridge.
Again the same thing applies to the numerous roads leading
through the grounds, hardly two of which are alike, for they run
the entire gamut from plain dirt roads to high grade macadam-
ized roads, so as to offer any kind of background sought by the
director. The main boulevard through the grounds is over six
miles in length.
Some idea of the magnitude of this wonderful motion-picture
city is obtained from the water system. Every building is sup-
plied with water 99 per cent pure, fed to a reservoir from seven
artesian wells at the rate of 300,000 gallons a day.
There are two distinctive sections of Chameleon City: the
ranch section, which was the first to be completed, and the city
section. In the main the ranch section is used in the making of
Western life, Indian subjects and other photoplays that require
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156 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
rugged backgrounds. On the other hand, the city section is em-
ployed in producing pictures that require special and elaborate
backgrounds.
The main feature of the city section is no doubt the enormous
outdoor stage which is built entirely of reinforced concrete and
steel framework. It covers a ground space of 156 feet by 320
feet. The concrete of the floor is six inches in thickness, as are
likewise the walls of the buildings adjoining it. At the rear of
the stage are the dressing rooms, directors' offices, toilets and
shower baths. Hot and cold water, electricity and all other
modern conveniences are features of the stage. In the space for
acting there are three pits, twelve feet deep, which are intended
for water and basement pictures. The stage has two scene docks
50 by 120 feet, the roofs of which are used to house the light
diffusers which move on steel girders above the stage. The acting
space measures 65 by 320 feet, and can accommodate upwards
of ten sets at one time, depending on their size.
The principal building in the new section of the city is the ad-
ministration building, which contains the manager's office, di-
rectors' offices, reception hall, bank, business office, telephone and
telegraph booths, and literary rooms, while above the center of
the main floor is the observation tower from which the manager
may see all sections of the ranch.
The carpenter shop is directly to the left of the administration
building, where all of the accessories needed by the motion-picture
city are made. In this building are also located the plumbing
shop, electricians' quarters, drafting rooms, dark rooms and
camera rooms. The restaurant and refreshment stand are located
at the right of the administration building, and there is also an
open air and closed cafe close at hand.
The production of thrilling motion-picture dramas often results
in accidents, for that is the price of realism at times. So there is
provision made in this bizarre community for the unavoidable
injuries to actors, in the form of a well-equipped hospital which
has a trained nurse and doctor always in attendance. There are
two wards available, one for the women and one for the men,
each having two beds.
Near the hospital in one of the canyons is a Roman theater
and a stadium, having a seating capacity of about 1,400 people.
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158 The Birth-Place of the Motion Picture
The grounds before and behind the buildings are laid out in
lawns, there being a Roman bath with pool and fountain. There
is also a building measuring 50 by 200 feet, known as the electric
studio, where pictures may be made during rainy weather and
at night, with artificial illumination as in the Eastern studios.
The ranch or Wild West section also has its stage, behind which
are dozens of dressing rooms and property rooms. Farther on
is a fully equipped carpenter shop and a scenery department.
But the main feature of this section is the large zoo, containing
a large number of animals. At the time this is being written the
zoo contains twenty camels, two elephants, several lions, seals,
tigers, leopards, snakes, bears, wolves, and so on, all available
for "animal stuff/'
Other features of the ranch are the blacksmith shop and- the
arsenal. The latter contains large stocks of firearms of all sorts,
to meet the requirements of almost any scenario. There is also
a corral containing over one hundred fine horses. Bunk houses,
clubs and other structures conclude the list of interesting points
worth visiting if a person chances to pass through this community.
IN THE GOLDEN WEST
While the community just described is perhaps the largest
institution of its kind in the world, other California studios are
very much along the same general lines, even if they do not com-
pare with it in magnitude. Thus other producers have, large
yards or "lots" where they can stage outdoor scenes, and the
staging accommodations are almost unlimited, thanks to the
outdoor stages. At least one other producer maintains a very
fine zoo, and well does he make use of it in specializing rather
heavily on "animal stuff" in his thrillers.
In the East, where property is in general far more expensive
to acquire, studios do not have very large yards, hence their
activities on the "lot" must necessarily be limited. One studio,
however,, in the vicinity of New York has a fair sized yard which
includes a pool, good use of which is made in many of the pic-
tures coming from that plant. But the large yard is strictly a
Western characteristic, as is also the outdoor stage.
With hundreds of thousands of dollars represented in many of
the studios of the leading producers, it is seldom that the directors
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are unprepared to handle any given scenario. For the scenario
writer may call for a street scene in Shanghai, a naval battle, or a
charge in No Man's Land, and the director will go ahead and pro-
duce it; that is, provided always that the story is worth the
expense and the trouble involved. Such is the scope of the mod-
ern motion-picture studio.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GENERALS OF SHADOWLAND
ALL THE WORLD is the stage of the photoplay pro-
/-M ducer. He can think big things, and yet still bigger
things are always possible of execution. -For the
motion picture has all outdoors for a stage, and thousands
upon thousands of players can be used in a single scene if
the production is worth the expenses involved. Mechan-
ically, there is no limit to the size of the photoplay stage,
save, that if the dimensions are forever expanded a time
comes when the players are of microscopic proportions
when shown on the screen. So it is not surprising to find
photoplays in which hundreds or thousands of actors
appear in certain scenes. The handling of this class of
Mm, or ''mob stuff" in the parlance of the prof ess ion, finds
the director at his very best.
162 The Generals of Shadowland
WITH all outdoors for its stage and with Nature as the
scene painter, the motion picture will always possess a
tremendous advantage over the legitimate drama which
must necessarily .confine even its most grandiose efforts to a com-
paratively small stage and artificial scenery. Yet it would not
be true to claim every advantage for the motion picture; indeed,
its disadvantages are often evident and at times troublesome,
although constant improvement has done much to eliminate the
better part of them. Nor would it be true to claim that the nat-
ural scenery and the unlimited stage facilities have played a
most important role in making the shadow-play what it is; for
quite apart from these features the present photoplay could still
hold its own.
Nevertheless, the stirring scenes of thousands of soldiers en-
gaged in realistic battle; of thousands of strikers menacing an
industrial plant; of thousands of men, women and children march-
ing to the palace of a despotic emperor to demand his abdication ;
of thousands of people fleeing from the oncoming streams of
molten lava pouring down from a volcano in full eruption all
these belong, and are only possible, in the realm of shadowland.
Realizing this fact full well, the motion-picture director works
largely in the open; and when a story justifies the expense and
trouble, he does not hesitate to gather an army of players and
make use of a natural stage whose dimensions are measured
neither in feet nor yards but in miles.
Big scenes are rather the exception in motion pictures because
of their expense. Nevertheless, it is becoming increasingly com-
mon to employ big scenes even in the regular run of feature
productions; and in many instances the photoplay is produced
around the big outdoor scenes in which many people appear.
SELECTING AND PREPARING THE OUTDOOR STAGE
A motion-picture director does not build or paint his outdoor
scenery: he selects it. As has previously been stated in this book,
not so long ago the director personally attended to the selection
of outdoor sites or "locations," usually employing a fast auto-
mobile for the purpose of scouring the country for many miles
about the studio. But with the advent of efficiency methods in
the industry there has come a new order of things: the present
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164 The Generals of Shadowland
tendency is to break up the work into different and distinct
classes or departments, each of which is handled by a specialist.
In a large producing organization the director generally leaves
the matter of locations to the location director who has data and
other facilities for finding a suitable background for the big scene.
Once the location is settled upon, the outdoor stage must be
more or less prepared before the actors are brought out, for with
a few hundred or a few thousand players getting anywhere from
two to five dollars a day it is quite an easy matter to waste hun-
dreds and even thousands of dollars in useless delays. Sometimes
it is necessary to build elaborate structures, such as entire vil-
lages or fortresses or public buildings, as the case may be, and
anywhere from a few weeks to a year may be spent in the erec-
tion of such sets. Battlefields, on the other hand, also require
considerable time for the preparation of the terrain, especially
if modern warfare is to be depicted with its trenches and dugouts
and barbed wire belts.
Now the preparation of the terrain is only a part of the work,
for there still remain the construction and concealment or camou-
flaging of camera platforms and directing stations, so that the
action may be directed and photographed simultaneously from a
number of different points. Also, if the scene is quite extensive,
a telephone system must be installed, connecting with the various
parts of the outdoor stage. In order that the action of various
groups of actors may be synchronized and at all times remain un-
der control of the head director, a telephone system joins up
assistant directors and cameramen scattered about in concealed
posts, with the director and his own cameramen atop the lofty
platform at one end of the landscape. For it is a fact that the
telephone is practically indispensable in handling mob scenes
scattered over a wide territory, although other systems of issuing
orders are feasible and are frequently employed by some direc-
tors, as we shall learn presently.
Still another feature of the preparations is the planting of mines
to simulate bursting shells and land mines in the case of modern
battle scenes. Some companies employ a specialist for this end
of the undertaking a man who has had wide experience in the
handling of explosives and pyrotechnics. Following the general
instructions of the director, this man plants his mines at specified
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points, and places an inconspicuous stake above each mine, finally
making a chart of the arrangement for reference purposes. The
mines are electrically fired during the filming of the production,
which calls for considerable concealed wiring and some sort of
firing station.
And when all preparations have been completed, the army of
players and cameramen and directing staff arrive bright and early
one day to film the big scenes. They come in all sorts of
vehicles, ranging from big motor buses capable of carrying a
dozen or two of the "extras" to the stream-lined racing car of the
leading lady. If the director knows his business, and it is pre-
sumed that he must when his organization entrusts the production
of a big scene to him, he has already instructed his players as to
the work to be done so that they quickly take their places and
soon the action is in full swing.
THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE REAL COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF
Perched on top of a wooden structure which towers high above
the outdoor stage, the director and his entourage usually enjoy
an unobstructed view of the landscape and players. Depending
upon the magnitude of the production, there are under his im-
mediate command two or more cameramen with their cameras,
and a number of assistant directors or lieutenants stationed not
only on the elevated platform but also scattered about the field
at various vantage points. The handling of so many people can-
not be undertaken by one man alone, especially when it is recalled
that the bulk of the players are "extras" or unskilled actors; so
the practice is to assign the assistant directors to various groups
of players who, while immediately under the direction of these
lieutenants, are really under the general direction of the director-
in-chief.
In issuing orders to nearby groups of players, such as in close-
up scenes in the fore part of the field, the director and his as-
sistants employ megaphones; but in handling actors a few hun-
dred feet away this means becomes totally inadequate. It is
then that the telephone system comes into play, and messages
of instruction to the men at various telephone posts are trans-
mitted to the players through megaphones by the assistant direc-
tors. But the telephone is not always employed ; in some cases a
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system of wig-wagging is used, and it has to recommend it the
fact that the players themselves can read simple signals if neces-
sary.
The main battery of cameras is usually stationed near the
director so as to obtain a clear sweep of the stage, but at various
points hidden cameras are lying in wait to film glimpses of the
action or what might be termed details. In the storming of a
medieval fortress, for instance, a battery of cameras is employed
to film the entire scene, while a hidden camera may be used to
record the struggle in the moat, another for the fighting on the
parapet, and still another for the struggle at the portcullis. True,
these scenes might be taken by the same cameraman, one after
another, but the players would then have to be engaged for a
longer period with proportionately greater expense; and what is
more, the various bits of action would not interlock to the nicety
that is realized with the multiple camera method now practiced.
And "continuity," as has already been brought out in a preceding
chapter, is the bete noir of all productions.
In no small degree the skill of a director is shown by his ability
to issue orders to the various cameramen, who "shoot" or "cut,"
filming and resting, as directed over the series-connected tele-
phone system. "Camera three, shoot," starts said cameraman
filming the bit of action immediately in front of his camouflaged
post, and a few moments later the message "Camera three, stop,"
brings the cranking to a halt. Of course, the telephones being
connected in series, so as to save the additional work of installing
a switchboard, causes every message to be heard by all the men
connected in on the line, so that numbers are given to designate
the men for whom the instructions are intended.
HOW THE BIG SCENE CAME INTO ITS OWN
One of the earlier American productions on a large scale was
produced in California some four years ago under the direction
of our best-known director. In this production over 1,000 players
and 300 horsemen were employed. Many expensive sets had to
be constructed, foremost among them being a replica of the
ancient city of Bethulia, the mammoth wall that protected the
ancient city, a faithful reproduction of the army camps with all
their barbaric splendor and dances, and chariots, battering rams,
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170 The Generals of Shadowland
scaling ladders, archers' towers and many other machines of
warfare of that period of long ago.
Prompted no doubt by the success of his earlier production,
this director undertook America's first motion-picture classic,
based on our Civil War and the period of reconstruction. In the
battle scenes of that production thousands of actors afoot and on
horseback were employed, and in all it is claimed that something
like 15,000 people took part. The direction of the big scenes was
facilitated by the use of a telephone system, and the director,
perched high above the field, was able to talk with his cameramen
and sub-directors in all parts of the field, ordering out the cavalry
at the right moment, the artillery fire at another, and the various
attacks where and when desired in conformity with his recon-
struction of Civil War battles. One cannot help comparing this
task to that of a painter working on a battle scene; for the
director, even if he does not wield the brush and pencil and pig-
ments, none the less creates the beautifully finished picture which
is ultimately presented on the screen.
FIGHTING BLOOD AND FILM REALISM
When viewing the average battle scene the question invariably
arises in the mind of the spectator: Are they really fighting?
And the question is perfectly justified, for the striking realism of
the scenes is at once apparent and even alarming at times. The
answer is that the men do fight sometimes too earnestly, al-
though every precaution is taken to the end that they will not
inflict serious injury on one another in their zest. The battles
must be kept in the sham state.
The story is told of how 3,000 colored players taking part in
some of the scenes of a Civil War photoplay were thoroughly
alarmed by the vicious charges of the Ku-Klux-Klan men, and
as a result of these over half their number deserted and refused
to finish the scenes in which they were slated to appear. Coaxing
having utterly failed, a new lot of men had to be sought and
hired, causing a serious loss of time "and money.
But this occurrence is by no means unusual, for the players
often take a keen, almost too keen, interest in their work, forget-
ting that they are fighting not for king and country but for a few
hundred feet of celluloid ribbon and two dollars or so per day.
FILM REALISM OFTEN BECOMES TOO REAL, FOR EVEN THE
ARE APT TO TAKE THEIR WORK QUITE SERIOUSLY
'EXTRAS'
172 The Generals of Shadowland
Prior to our entrance into the European war certain directors
had experienced trouble in staging battles based on the war,
especially when contending nationals met in sham battles. On a
certain occasion Italian pseudo-soldiers came in contact with
Austrian pseudo-soldiers in a Chicago studio, and there raged a
battle which was bloody even though waged with blunt bayonet
and blank cartridge. Too much realism is worse than none, so
directors have had to be careful in their selection of extra players
for battle scenes.
Accuracy is an essential in the high grade production, and in
producing his first classic motion picture one of our leading di-
rectors paid particular attention to the small details. During a
big battle scene a dispute arose among the actors as to the color
and kind of horse ridden by the famous commander-in-chief of
the Confederate forces when he was campaigning at the head of
the Army of Northern Virginia. The director was away at the
moment :
"Better stop 'taking/ " suggested the cameraman, "till we
telephone in and have the facts looked up and verified."
A high-powered touring car had glided up behind the group.
In it sat the director himself.
"What's the fuss about?" he inquired. When told, he smiled
tolerantly. "Why, Lee's dappled gray charger 'Traveler/ " he
remarked, "is one of the three most famous horses in history.
Bucephalus' and Napoleon's nags were the other two, and I've
got a horse as near like 'Traveler' as possible waiting in that
stable yonder. Go on with your 'take.' '
In a more recent classic production, the director secured his
idea from a Federal Industrial Commission report, which stated
that a large number of men had gone out on strike owing to in-
sufficient pay in the face of the rising cost of living, and that
when the strike was quelled by exceptionally "strong arm" meth-
ods, 19 strikers were missing the victims of the corporation's
guards. With little else to work from except this report and
historical accounts, the director set about producing his master
play which depicts four big epochs in the history of mankind; in
fact, it is said that he did not employ a scenario. Thousands of
actors appeared in the various scenes, and the accuracy of the
historic events has been highly praised by connoisseurs.
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In a war photoplay produced in California, the wig-wag system
of signaling was employed in the big mob scenes. Instructions
were given over a large area by flag signaling, in much the same
manner that the Navy and Army units converse with one another
ut a distance. In order to obtain several spectacular rain scenes a
300- foot hose was stretched from the ocean to the plateau on
which was stationed the camera. At a given signal the pumps
were set working and two nozzles played even streams on the
assembled players, while the camera recorded the action from
under a large umbrella. While this feature has little to do with
the handling of mob scenes, it shows that there are times when
the director even directs the weather man-made weather, in
this case.
TELEPHONE, WIG-WAG AND WIRELESS
Among the recent productions, one based on the life of the im-
mortal Joan of Arc and produced in California, contains a number
of inspiring battle scenes of those days when men fought at close
quarters with spear and mace and battle axe, each carrying a
hundred pounds or more of steel protection in the form of a suit
of armor. Fourteen hundred men took part in the battle scenes
which extended over a field one hundred acres in area. The
director was assisted by twelve sub-directors stationed with cam-
eras at various vantage points about the field. Each sub-director,
as well as the director, was equipped with a standard telephone
operator's set, an arrangement enabling the director-general
to control the movements of the participants and to direct the
entire action from his post at the center camera stand. Every-
thing that the director said here could be heard by the twelve
sub-directors at their respective stations. Although it is usual to
spend at least two days in rehearsing a big battle scene, by means
of the telephonic instructions as given by the director-general
it was found possible to start taking pictures after less than one
hour's preparation.
Over 2,700 men, among them 1,200 soldiers belonging to the
California National Guard, 325 horses, several batteries of field
guns and 25 airplanes, and one armored tractor or "tank" figured
in the battle scenes of a recent serial picture. Various means were
employed in transmitting the director's instructions to the play-
FROM THE MASSACRE OF BELGIAN CIVILIANS TO THE FRENZIED WALL
STREET SPECULATORS IS ALL IN A DAY'S WORK
176 The Generals of Shadowland
ers, among them being the telephone, wig-wagging, and even wire-
less telegraphy. The latter was necessary in directing the airships
which could not be reached in any other manner quite so effect-
ively. All the latest phases of warfare were depicted in these
battle scenes, and something like three months was required for
the battle episodes of the serial.
Another modern battle story was made some time ago in the
vicinity of New York. In it are included a number of good fight-
ing scenes. These were staged in Staten Island, across the bay
from New York city. Three weeks were spent in preparing the
ground, and one week in taking the actual scenes. Over one
thousand soldiers of the Coast Defense Corps, New York National
Guard, took part in the picture.
In this production the wig-wag system was employed for direct-
ing the distant action, and the megaphone for close-up work. In
order to keep the spectators from wandering into the picture, that
is to say, into the range of the camera, a system of telephones was
installed to facilitate communication with the outpost guards.
In all, six orders were issued before actual pictures were taken
of these particular scenes, which illustrates in a way the com-
plexity of a typical big battle scene.
The entire field was mined and the location of the charges
indicated by inconspicuous stakes driven in the ground. The
director, provided with a map of the mines, was in a position
to issue orders for the electrical firing of the various mines, thus
giving the utmost realism to the charge of the troops through a
pseudo-barrage of bursting shells.
There were numerous "realistic" scenes in this war photoplay,
such as bomb-dropping, Zeppelin and airplane fights, destruction
of enormous battleships in dramatic sea fights, and so on. But
these were not as destructive as they appear. The studio yard at
that time was the battlefield and the high seas in miniature.
Still another recent production includes a number of fighting
scenes of the house-to-house and street-battle character during
the invasion of Flanders by the Germans. These scenes were
staged in a village erected for the purpose near Sheepshead Bay,
Brooklyn. Because of the proximity of the players to the di-
rector, the megaphone method was used almost exclusively by
the director. Among the startling scenes in this production was
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178 The Generals of Shadowtand
the shelling of a cabaret room used at the time for hospital pur-
poses. In producing this scene explosives were placed at various
points in the walls and fired electrically at the propitious moment
to simulate bursting shells.
A VILLAGE ON A CLOCKWORK BASIS
A director recently achieved a signal success in a New England
village scene which he was directing for a feature photoplay.
The street of the village was built especially for him on the
grounds of the studio, and the whole village with its various side
streets and residential districts was more than a quarter of a mile
long. At the extreme end of the main street was placed a lofty
camera platform, built so that the director might raise or lower
his camera to any height desired.
In the scene were depicted the usual little groups of village
loiterers. At one spot two men were "pitchin' horseshoes"; at
another, the itinerant peddler was selling his wares back of a
wagon; at still another the village drunkard was haranguing the
usual crowd of village loafers. At the end of the street farthest
from the camera, a wagon loaded with hay swung into vision and
passed down the main street. When it reached a certain cross
street, a throng of children ran laughing and playing into view.
It was evident that "school was out." The youngsters swarmed
over the hay wagon, while some of them climbed on top for a ride.
To have these bits of "atmosphere" coordinated required care-
ful preparation, especially as the difficulties of rehearsing each
group in its work were great. From his vantage point on the
camera platform the director commanded a clear view of all the
action. Masked by buildings and doorways, six assistants under
the charge of the director's lieutenant, or right-hand man, each
started his own group of actors in their particular business. At
the foot of the camera platform was a telephone switchboard
temporarily placed so that the director could call out his instruc-
tions to the operator who relayed them to each assistant over
field wires.-
Now in the .film scene the line of wiring which stretched down
the main street in reality carried the telephone lines through
which the director kept in touch with his assistants. The whole,
as is so often the case with big mob scenes, takes but a few
THE VENICE OF ITALY TRANSPLANTED IN CALIFORNIA, THANKS TO THE
SKILL OF THE CARPENTERS AND PAINTERS
180 The Generals of Shadowland
minutes on the screen; but here again the effect was well worth
the hours of preparation which had been expended on it.
WHEN THE PUBLIC ACTS FOR THE PICTURES AND DOESN'T KNOW IT
Just one instance will serve to demonstrate how a director
sometimes secures a splendid mob picture without letting the in-
voluntary players know of it. A director was recently confronted
with the difficulty of securing a scene in which many persons
crowd about several newsboys who are announcing an important
"extra." According to the film story, the "extra" tells of the elec-
tion of a disliked candidate for office. And the populace show
their dislike to the point of violent anger.
After considerable thought the director decided on a somewhat
unusual and bold scheme, although others of a similar nature are
resorted to regularly by different directors. He had several boys
don the garb of newsboys and sent them out on the boardwalk of
Venice, California. Meantime the cameraman and this director
concealed themselves in a nearby building, within full view of the
pseudo-newsboys.
Soon the large crowds passing up and down the boardwalk were
startled by the cry of the newsboys to the effect that England had
declared war on the United States. Only one thing could happen:
everybody within hearing rushed up to get a copy of the "extra,"
and then stood about while intently searching through the pages
for the item the newsboys had announced. One by one they
began to realize that a joke had been played on them, and their
astonishment changed to wrath.
It only remained for the cameraman, director and newsboys
to escape the angry crowds. This they did successfully, after
having obtained the desired picture.
There is still another way in which persons pose for mob
pictures without ever being aware of the fact. This is in con-
nection with the work of the "weekly" films or "current events"
films. Scenes taken at race tracks, army maneuvers and camp
scenes, college games and contests, fires and explosions and other
catastrophes, and similar scenes are always available in dramatic
films some day or other. If a director is putting on a race track
picture it is generally possible for him to make use of sections of
a film made at some well-known racing event. Clever editing
PREPARING THE "STAGE" FOR THE MOB: SOUTHERN MANSION IN
COURSE OF CONSTRUCTION AND DURING FILMING
182 The Generals of Shadowland
causes these scenes to dovetail to a nicety with the pattern of the
film story, and no one is any the wiser. The same can apply to
all manner of topical film, and this fact the "weekly" men always
have in mind. Indeed, they never hesitate to photograph wrecks,
fires, explosions, society events and other similar material, for
who knows when one director or the other will be able to use this
material and thus save thousands of dollars on a feature pro-
duction?
But it takes skill, to be sure; for the director must know just
how to insert these extraneous scenes without losing the con-
tinuity of his story. There have been numerous instances where
a film play has been produced merely to fit around a certain col-
lection of scenes made years before.
Such is the work of the generals of shadowland warfare the
directors of photoplays. Hundreds of instances might be cited
if space permitted, but no greater credit to these men could pos-
sibly be done.
One moment finds the director handling a highly emotional
actress in a close-up scene, where the stage is measured in feet;
another moment he is directing a thousand or more untrained,
unemotional extra players in a stage five miles deep with the
infinite blue of the sky for his ceiling. In the first instance he
must handle his subject with consummate skill so as to bring out
the foremost characteristics of the player, yet tone down the
tendency to overact which is so often to be contended with. In
the second instance he must secure plenty of action and en-
thusiasm, despite the poor material in hand and the difficulties
presented by the magnitude of his stage.
But done it must be. For there is no such word as "can't" in
the language of the film man.
CHAPTER IX.
TRICKS OF THE SCREEN
rfJIIE OLD SAYING that "the camera never lies"
i should be revised. It may have been so in the days
before the motion picture; but from the earliest times
the screen art has made the camera lie and lie persistently
and interestingly. "Tricks" are the more polite name
for camera lies, and "trick pictures" are pictures which
do not tell the truth. Yet tricks are a big asset in
photoplay production; and in the vast bag of tricks rests
one more advantage of the motion picture over the stage.
Today there are few pictures of the strictly "trick" cate-
gory. Tricks are used rather sparingly, because there
are so many prosaic themes which can be produced with
straight photography. Still, tricks are used to obtain
pleasing effects, and often in comedy productions to obtain
a hearty laugh.
184 . Tricks of the Screen
BECAUSE of the illusions and wonderful tricks that can be
performed in cinematography, the screen will always pos-
sess a tremendous advantage over the legitimate stage,
aside from the matter of limitless scenery. All manner of things
come within the* scope of pictures portraying real life, and there
is still another field opened up through the possibilities of me-
chanical contrivances, photographic manipulations, and ingenious
scenery effects. Whereas the audience of the legitimate stage
view the production directly through their own eyes, the motion-
picture audience really sees through the single eye of the camera
and because of that fact it only sees what the producer has
deigned that it should see. Which, of course, facilitates tricks
and effects and illusions of all kinds.
THE MAGICIAN OF THE SCREEN
Back in the early days of motion pictures when the photoplay
had not yet come into its own, the trick picture was the mainstay
of the industry, and it took its place beside the travel picture and
science film. . Children and adults alike were entertained by
mysterious pots and plates and tableware that danced about as
if possessed of life, by tiny fairies, by startling conversions
such as from a man to a rabbit, arid by no end of similar subjects.
With the advent of the photoplay, however, these films practi-
cally disappeared, for the reason that their production is time-
consuming and expensive, and the demand for such films is too
small to warrant the trouble involved in their manufacture.
It was a French magician, M. Melies, who first saw the possi-
bilities of the trick pictures and immediately set to work applying
his stage experience in this newly found field. He devoted much
time and thought to the production of such films, and was amply
rewarded by the signal success of his products. Later his work
was emulated by others, among them Mr. Robert Paul of Eng-
land. Then came the photoplay, and the trick picture was no
longer a necessity. And while it passed out of existence as a
class, many of the tricks used in those early subjects have been
retained by present-day producers.
To give an account of every trick employed in screen produc-
tion would require a book in itself a loose-leaf book, for that
matter, since new tricks are being applied almost every day.
HANGING FROM THE TWENTIETH STORY OF A SKYSCRAPER AS IT LOOKS
IN THE FILM AND BEHIND THE SCENES
186 Tricks of the Screen
There is no end to new ideas in motion-picture production,
hence the impossibility of covering all tricks. So it is the au-
thor's plan here to cover only the basic and more important tricks,
which, in some form or another, are the basis for practically all
the tricks now seen on the screen.
Much of the trick work is done photographically. Among the
devices employed are the " fade-out" and its reverse effect, the
"fade- in," already described in a previous chapter. Aside from
the regular employment of these effects to open and close scenes,
and for dissolving one scene into another, there are many trick
possibilities. A fade-out followed by a fade-in, so timed that
the image on the screen does not darken perceptibly because the
two scenes overlap almost entirely, serves to introduce new char-
acters in a gradual and pleasing way. Indeed, the new characters
sort of "materialize" as we are told spirits do at a seance. The
fade-out is accomplished in the usual manner, and when it has
reached its end, the characters are introduced and the film is
wound back again, after which the camera still pointing at the
same scene in which the additional characters have now been
introduced, starts filming with a fade-in.
The sudden stopping of the camera is a source of many sur-
prises. Any old-time film "fan" recalls the trick pictures in
which characters would suddenly disappear from a scene in a
cloud of smoke, or would suddenly turn into something else.
These are the simplest of tricks, notwithstanding the baffling
results. In the first class of effects the camera is stopped short,
the character or characters step out of the scene, a smoke pot is
ignited and placed on the spot formerly occupied by the player or
players, and the camera again starts taking pictures. In the
second class the character or characters leave the stage after the
camera has stopped short, and the desired object is placed where
the character or characters stood last. Of course, the camera
cannot always stop short and the substituted subject does not
always coincide on the negative as made. For this reason some-
cutting is required on the negative in order to match up the two
strips of film made in the camera.
Many tricks can be accounted for by stopping the camera.
Where a player suddenly changes into another character or into
a statue, the stopping of the camera and the substitution explain
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188 Tricks of the Screen
the result. If the conversion is gradual and mystifying, it is done
by a fade-out and fade-in, as already described. In either case
the players proceed with their work until the director issues
some such command as "Hold!" or "Rigid!" whereupon they
stop further acting instantly and hold their postures. The sub-
stitution is then effected, and with the continuation of the filming
the players come out of their rigid postures and continue with
the action.
WHY BREAK GOOD NECKS WHEN DUMMIES ARE AVAILABLE?
The hair-raising scenes where the villain is cast from the top
of a tall bluff by the curly-haired hero are largely possible be-
cause of the sudden stopping of the camera and the substitution
of a dummy. The fight, for instance, proceeds up to a certain
point where the unlucky villain is about to drop over the brink.
Then the camera stops short, and a dummy, dressed exactly like
the villain, takes his place in the hands of the pseudo hero. Then
the camera starts up again, and the hero, with a final heroic
effort, pushes the dummy over the brink. Another camera "shoot-
ing" the scene from some vantage point, secures the action of the
life-like dummy hurtling to its doom. And finally, when the
dummy has reached the bottom, the cameraman sets up his ma-
chine while the real villain takes the place of the dummy. The
"close-up" of the real villain lying in a heap concludes the
thrilling fight. Much depends on the cutting and matching up
on such scenes, for the camera does not stop quite short enough,
nor does it start quite soon enough, to join up the scenes. There
is some waste at the end and the start of adjoining "takes," which
must be eliminated in the cutting room.
One of the trick pictures turned out by a French producer some
years ago depicted a man being run over by an automobile, after
he had fallen asleep in the street. His two legs were cut off com-
pletely ; yet, undaunted, this inveterate sleeper picked up his sev-
ered limbs and signalled with them to a passerby who happened
to be a surgeon. In a few moments the surgeon succeeded in
replacing the limbs, whereupon the inveterate sleeper arose, shook
hands with his benefactor, and went his way. All in all, the
effect was most convincing on the screen.
But the picture was a painless proposition, to be sure. In the
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190 Tricks of the Screen
first place two actors took the same role, one of them a normal
individual and the other a legless man. By ingenious makeup
the two actors were made to resemble each other. Lastly, two
artificial legs were provided.
Now then, the normal actor was first filmed up to the point
where he went to sleep in the roadway, while an automobile was
shown coming up to where he lay. The acting was slow and so
was the rate of travel of the automobile; in fact, to reduce the
danger in all scenes of this nature the vehicles move quite slowly
and the acting is slowed down in like manner, so that everything
can be carried out without trouble or undue danger. Yet when
the film is projected at the standard rate the action is speeded
up to the normal point and the illusion is convincing.
When the automobile reached the first actor, the camera was
stopped and the second legless actor took his place, with the
artificial legs placed on the other side of the wheel about to pass
"over" the sleeper. Then the camera started and the automobile
passed on. Then the legless player picked up his limbs and
waved them and continued in the picture until the time came to
rise and shake hands with the surgeon. Here the second substi-
tution took place, and the normal actor carried the picture
through to the end.
ANIMATING DISHES AND OTHER THINGS
Another prolific source of screen tricks is the stop-motion or
single-picture movement of the camera. As was explained in the
camera chapter, the camera takes images either at the standard
rate of sixteen per second, or one image for every turn of the
crank. This being the case, the possibilities of the stop-motion
movement are at once apparent. Any subject posed between
single exposures can be represented on the screen as doing no end
of humorous and startling things.
Practically anything can be animated in this manner. The
earlier trick pictures generally showed household things, such as
pots and dishes and tableware, jumping about in a most con-
vincing manner. Again, a little boy was shown fast asleep,
dreaming of his toy soldiers which immediately sprang to life
and engaged in military maneuvers. There was no end to the
pictures of this kind.
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192 Tricks of the Screen
Much patience and weeks and months of work are required
on the part of the producer of this class of pictures. One picture
is made at a time, with an occasional "string'' of several pictures;
and the subjects must be slightly altered between each picture or
"string" of pictures. When thrown on the screen at the regular
rate of speed, the successive images depict quite an animation
without signs of the hands which rearranged the subjects between
images.
Animated cartoons, animated sculptures, and animated dolls
are produced in this manner, as described in a subsequent chapter.
The same principle applies to animated titles, in which the letters
go through various evolutions and capers before taking their
regular places.
One of the most interesting effects of the stop motion is the
reduction of time. For example, it is possible to show the growth
and development of a rose in ten minutes, so that the audience
beholds the flower passing through its life of several weeks in as
many minutes. This is accomplished by setting up a camera
which makes an image of the rose every ten minutes of half hour
or hour. And when the film is projected at the usual speed, the
time is reduced accordingly. This effect has also been employed
in showing how a building is constructed.
The stop-motion, when combined with other effects, such as the
reverse, has many possibilities. One of these is the mass of clay
which develops into a perfect statue on the screen, without any
aid whatsoever. In this effect a statue is first modeled in soft
clay, after which the camera makes a certain number of feet of
it and then switches over to the stop-motion shaft. Then after
each image is made the soft clay statue is struck with a stick,
until at the end it is reduced to a shapeless mass. If the film is
projected in the usual manner, the statue dissolves into a shape-
less mass. If the film is reversed, which can be done in the first
place by mounting the camera upside down on its tripod, the
effect is the forming of a statue from a shapeless mass of
clay.
THE MIRACLES OF DOUBLE PRINTING
What cannot be done with the camera in the way of trick
pictures can be done in the laboratory by clever printing. Thus
SPIRIT EFFECTS SUCH AS THESE ARE OBTAINED BY DOUBLE EXPOSURES
ON THE SAME NEGATIVE
194 Tricks of the Screen
some of the most remarkable effects are the result of double and
even triple printings in making the positives.
The earlier fairy pictures used to depict diminutive players
in the same scene as full sized players. For instance, a fairy
would appear in the bottler of a heavy drinker and dance about
to his amazement. Startling as the effect was on the screen, its
production was nothing more than a plain piece of photography.
In such a case the full-sized player was first filmed in a close-up,
with a dark bottle which photographed poorly ; that is to say, its
reflection was so slight that it left a black or blank space on the
negative. Then another full-sized player, dressed as a fairy,
was photographed against a dead-black drop at a sufficient dis-
tance away to bring down the size of the image to that required
to fit the bottle. Generally the full-sized figure of the head and
chest was filmed at three to five feet, while the fairy was filmed
at a distance as great as 150 feet. Then the two films, with
their subjects carefully registered, were printed on one positive
with wonderful result.
Cloud effects and submarine effects are produced by double
printing, as a general thing. In those scenes where the action
takes place below the surface of water, the simplest procedure
is to make a strip of film of an aquarium with the fish and other
denizens swimming about, and another film of the action against
a suitable background in the studio. When these negatives are
completed a positive is made by double printing, producing a
most realistic effect. Sometimes an aquarium is interposed be-
tween the subject and the camera lens, but this is not always
satisfactory for the reason that the water, acting as a supple-
mentary lens, distorts and blurrs the subjects. In the case of sea
nymphs which appear to swim about with utmost ease, the effect
is secured by placing the players on a suitable background resting
on the floor of the studio, while the camera "shoots" the scene
from above. This negative, in conjunction with another made
of an aquarium, produces the realistic positive.
Cloud effects are obtained by double printing. A negative is
prepared of pretty cloud effects and kept as regular stock in the
stuolio vaults. At any time such stock negative can be used in
conjunction with another of some action, say of an allegorical or
religious nature, to make a positive.
SPLIT-STAGE WORK, AS ALREADY DESCRIBED, PERMITS OF DOUBLING
OR CUTTING UP AN ACTOR
196 Tricks of the Screen
Where titles are introduced in a scene, especially in instances
where a thought, moral, or dialogue is represented by one or more
lines of type, the effect is produced by double printing. The scene
is filmed in the usual manner as well as the title on another piece
of negative. Then the two negatives are double printed, produc-
ing the desired result.
^The various methods of splitting a scene so that the same actor
can appear twice at a time "twin brother" stuff, so to speak
have been described in the chapter dealing with the cameraman
and his work. The use of matts and the double exposure box
were described at length. It is well to add here, however, that
some of these effects can also be produced by double printing,
wherever the two halves of a scene are separated both with regard
to time and place. Where visions or thoughts or dreams are
depicted, the effects are obtained either in the camera or in the
printing operations, according to which is the most convenient
and the most realistic.
A STUDY IN BACKWARD MOVEMENT
The most ludicrous and startling results are obtained by operat-
ing a camera upside down on its tripod. Several types of camera
are provided with tripod holes on top as well as on the bottom,
permitting their use upside down. In this manner it is possible
to photograph a subject quite conventionally, yet when it is
shown through a projecting machine the action is backwards;
that is to say, the action starts from the rear end and runs toward
the beginning. The results are easily imagined. If a man is pho-
tographed jumping into the water, the film when shown on the
screen shows the water opening up (the reverse of the splash)
and the performer jumping up to the spring board (the reverse of
the dive) and finally the performer jumping a few times on the
tip of the spring board and then running backwards off the board.
In comedies the backward movement is employed to a great
extent, such as in showing automobiles racing backward, barrels
rolling uphill, and so on. In the instance of a comedy villain
throwing knives about his victim who is strapped to a post, the
effect can be produced by first placing the knives about the
victim and then pulling out the knives one by one with invisible
threads as the camera is operated upside down. The villain,
198 Tricks of the Screen
however, is photographed in a separate scene while throwing the
daggers or knives, which action, obviously, is photographed in
the usual manner, with the camera right side up.
It is also possible to make a print so that the action will be
backwards, where the effect has not been produced in the camera.
This applies particularly to photoplays in which the action is
first shown one way, and subsequently is shown backwards. In
order that the two actions may coincide to perfection, the same
negative is copied both the right way and reversed.
Another device of the comedy film is high-speed action. Some
scenes may show certain characters working with the speed of
lightning, or a vehicle tearing along a road at express-train
speed. This effect is produced by taking pictures at a rate of
speed slower than the usual sixteen images per second, and then
when the same pictures are projected at the standard speed the
action is accelerated proportionately.
The simple example of accelerated action or shall we call it
electrified action? is where everything in a scene is moving at
about the same gait. In this case the film was simply made at a
slower rate of speed. But in those scenes where only part of the
performers move at the accelerated speed while others appear
quite natural, the effect calls for some care on the part of the
slow-moving or normal performers. These must act very, very
slowly while the other performers act in the usual manner, the
action being filmed at ten or twelve images per second. Then
when the film is projected at the standard speed, the effect is to
speed up the slow-acting performers to the usual, natural gait,
while the performers who acted at the normal speed are acceler-
ated to ludicrous actions. Film that has been made at the
regular rate 01 speed can be accelerated in the laboratory by
eliminating certain parts or images at regular intervals. But in
this procedure all the characters in the scene are uniformly ac-
celerated.
THOSE ATHLETIC COMEDIANS !
It seems to be quite the accepted thing among film "fans" to
expect a favorite actor to climb the fronts of houses and do all
manner of other daring feats. Yet if they stopped to analyze
some of the "stunts" performed by their screen heroes, they would
THOSE SCENES IN WHICH THE AUDIENCE RIDES MILE AFTER MILE WITH
THE PLAYERS ARE MADE IN EITHER WAY SHOWN
200 Tricks of the Screen
soon realize that these men could not possibly do the things they
apparently do. And here is where we unearth the close alliance
between property man and actor especially in comedy produc-
tions.
Your hero who climbs up the front of the house can do so in
several ways without being a champion climber. In the first
place, and where realism is essential, a "front" representing a
house can be erected on the studio grounds, provided with orna-
ments which in reality, are nothing more than staggered rungs
of a ladder These ornaments make it quite a simple matter for
the hero to climb or descend the house front.
Then there is another method, with even greater possibilities.
That is the " front" that is laid on the studio floor while the
cameras "shoot" the scene from above. The hero climbs up the
front of the house by crawling on his hands and knees along the
studio floor. And the same equipment makes it possible for the
"human fly" effect, the dog or horse running up the side of a
house, or even the automobile dashing up a wall. The work is
quite harmless and simple, to be sure; but so effectively painted
is the canvas laid on the floor that it is often a perfect illusion
when shown on the screen.
There used to be a certain brand of comedy films which made
a great name for itself because of its wonderful action. The
audience was held by some bit of clever action every moment of
the entire film. The acting was largely in the nature of the so-
called "slap-stick" comedy, but it was perhaps the highest class
of such comedy turned out until that time.
Now the performers of that brand of film did the most startling
things. They smashed into walls and went through houses on
motorcycles and in automobiles ; they ran mile after mile at hair-
raising speed; they went through the floor of one apartment and
into the rooms below, along with a deluge of lumber and plaster
and what not.
In this case the property man's work was apparent at every
turn. In the case of those dashes through walls, the studio
carpenters merely constructed a suitable scenery on the "lot,"
which was so arranged as to break away at any fair provocation^
Thus the wooden "bricks" were built into a wall, and the various
materials were lightly held together. The same applies to those
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202 Tricks of the Screen
scenes where performers crashed through a floor. The construc-
tion in all such scenes was of the "breakaway" or "break-apart"
variety, cleverly got up so as to make it seem quite the real thing.
Where a vehicle or a performer is shown dashing along at a
righ rate of speed, with the scenery flashing behind him, the
effect can be secured in two ways. First, the effect may be the
real thing, in which case the vehicle or performer is filmed from
an automobile or motor truck moving in a parallel direction.
Secondly, and most likely, it may be faked in the studio yard by
means of a merry-go-round arrangement. This consists of a
circular platform with suitable scenery on its inner edge, suitably
mounted so that it can be revolved. Now then, with the per-
former or vehicle placed on the platform and with said platform
in action, the vehicle or performer merely has to simulate rapid
travel while the stationary camera films the subject which does
not move very far from a fixed point in the range of the lens.
Meanwhile the scenery flashes by at the rear in a convincing-
enough manner.
Where an automobile is shown riding along a road for mile
after mile, the screen audience obviously traveling along with
the vehicle, the effect has been produced by mounting the camera
either on the car itself, such as on the hood or on a platform ex-
tending in front of the hood, or on a separate car or motor truck
in front. In the latter case the motor truck or car generally tows
the automobile where fairly close-up action is to be shown, the
hauling cable being hidden from the camera in some suitable
manner. By hauling the automobile a definite distance is main-
tained between the camera and the subject, and there is no danger
of a collision.
Papier mache bottles, plates, clubs and so on, hinged lamp
posts, rubber prison bars all these things are but a few of the
many contributions of the property man to the film comedian.
The dishes which the comedians smash on each other's faces with
such apparent abandon are certainly of the breakable variety,
arranged to smash at the slightest coaxing. Yet a custard pie is
always a custard pie: it must be real to produce a reel laugh!
CHAPTER X
FROM THE CAMERA TO
THE SCREEN
/T'S A LONG, long journey from the camera to the
screen from the exposed negative film in the camera
to the finished positive film ready for projection. And
all the work of players, scene carpenters and painters,
director and cameraman is in the balance while the film is
passing through the various phases of its laboratory career.
If the film is ruined, then all the work expended thus far is
irretrievably lost. But film producers have always seen to
it that their work would not be ruined in the laboratory;
the best photographers and the most skilled photographic
chemists are employed in the work. Far from endan-
gering the films placed in their hands, the laboratory
staff often reclaim the poor work of the cameraman and
avoid the expense of sending an entire company to a
distant location for a "retake."
.
204 From the Camera to the Screen
A GRAIN of dust, a slight variation in compounding a chem-
ical solution or in its temperature, an impure water
supply, an otherwise insignificant fluctuation in the vol-
tage of the current supply for the printing lamps, a trifling rise
or fall in the temperature of certain rooms, an inconsiderable
shrinkage of the film all these factors can mark the difference
between a clean, clear and steady picture on the screen, and a
spotty, indistinct, and jumpy film unfit for use. Which means that
once the film leaves the camera, the work of the actors, director,
and cameraman is entirely in the hands of the laboratory man;
and upon his experience, skill and care depend the screen results.
DUST, THE MOTION PICTURE'S ARCH ENEMY
At regular intervals the raw stock is received at the motion-
picture laboratory in such quantities as always to insure a fresh
supply. Usually the film is unperforated when received for
economical reasons and also because of the fact that, to ensure
accurate perforations, it is best to perforate it where it is to be
used. So the very first step in the laboratory is the preparation
of the raw stock, either negative or positive, in the perforating
room.
To perforate the plain film, great care must be exercised, for
upon the accuracy of this work depends the steadiness of the
picture on the screen. The machines employed for this work
perforate one set of holes at a time, after which the film is moved
forward the required distance in order to perforate another set.
The perforators are operated with scrupulous care, and special
attention is given to maintain rigid and uniform conditions of
both humidity and temperature. Above all, ^the perforating room
must be devoid of dust and dirt, for tiny specks on either negative
or positive stock loom up big when magnified hundreds of times
on the screen; indeed, all film operations must be carried out in
the form of a constant combat with the dust menace.
Still another phase of perforating is to condition the air prop-
erly, so that static electricity will not develop and spoil the film
by permanently marking it with lightning-like streaks. As can
well be imagined from what has already been said, this work,
from first to last, is carried out in almost total darkness, such
light as is permissible being supplied by ruby "safety" lamps.
FILMS ARE WOUND ON RACKS AND DIPPED IN LARGE TANKS FOR THE
VARIOUS DEVELOPING OPERATIONS
206 From the Camera to the Screen
DEVELOPING FILMS BY THE MILE
The developing of motion-picture negatives is much the same
as that of amateur films. The film is received in either the
camera magazine or in a sealed tin case, and upon being removed
from the container in the dark room, it is wound on a wooden
rack, emulsion side out. The rack is then placed in a narrow,
vertical tank containing the developer. Taking the necessary
precautions against the formation of air bubbles on the film, the
developing process is allowed to proceed.
Now while the amateur photographer has merely to place the
contents of a packet or vial into so much water, and then deposit
his film in this solution for so many minutes, the motion-picture
w r orker handling thousands of feet of film has to make certain
that his solution is in constant motion. To this end the usual
practice is to keep the developing solution in constant circula-
tion, while to ensure perfect results the temperature is carefully
maintained at a fixed standard.
The film racks are occasionally lifted from the developing
tanks and brought in front of dim ruby lamps to ascertain the
extent of the development. This, however, is not the practice
of a well-known laboratory expert, who has his time of develop-
ing prearranged with such great accuracy that after the shaking
up and down of the rack to avoid air bubbles, the film is left for
a predetermined length of time. His assistants are trained ac-
cordingly.
Great care is required in preparing the developing solutions.
Hundreds of gallons of developer is required daily in the larger
laboratories, and in each case a skilled chemist determines the
proper composition. Formerly these solutions were prepared by
a sort of rule-o'-thumb: the workers placed a half-barrel of this
constituent, three scoopfuls of that, and a handful of a third
into five barrels of water! And if the work did not turn out quite
right, they unblushingly blamed it on some unknown condition.
But to-day such procedure is no longer tolerated. The in-
dustry has reached the highest standards of photographic achieve-
ment. The developing solutions to which miles upon miles of
film is entrusted every day, with its imprisoned hours and
days of work on the part of expensive actors, directors, camera-
ABOVE: SCENE IN A MODERN FILM DARKROOM. BELOW: SCENE IN THE
WASHING ROOM, WHERE FILMS ARE RINSED
208 From the Camera to the Screen
men, scene painters and carpenters, have simply got to be watched
and tested at intervals; and when the first signs of exhaustion
appear they must be replaced with fresh lots. Any other pro-
cedure would be suicidal in a business sense.
THE QUESTION OF PURE WATER AND PLENTY OF IT
When the film has been developed to the required degree, it
must be fixed and then thoroughly washed so as to remove all
traces of hypo. For this purpose the film, still on the wooden
rack, is placed in a large tub through which passes a constant
stream of fresh water. As in the case of the chemicals, every
drop of water must be filtered and known to be free from any
injurious ingredients before it is allowed to come in contact with
the film. This means that a pure water supply must be available
in the first place, and that batteries of filters must be employed
to remove all particles of foreign matter.
Several years ago a film laboratory experienced considerable
trouble with its work: films were never quite up to the required
standard, although the same staff with the same equipment had
turned out an excellent product when located in another part of
the city. Chemists were called in; and they immediately set to
work analyzing the water supply, since that is generally the most
likely source of trouble. They found that the water, taken from
a nearby river, contained considerable quantities of an unde-
sirable and, indeed, injurious substance, and advised the labora-
tory man to that effect.
Whereupon the producer had a special well sunk to a depth of
over a thousand feet on his own property, in order to tap a virgin
supply of water, which, fortunately for him, proved to be ideal
for film purposes. And this example is also the story, with but
few minor changes, of numerous film laboratories; for above
everything else the developing of film calls for water pure
water, and plenty of it.
The celluloid ribbon, still on the original racks, is ready to be
sent to the drying room. Here it is taken off the racks and wound
on wood or metal drums which are revolving at a fair rate of
speed. This drying operation is carried out in a room whose
temperature is such as to ensure a high degree of dryness; and
the air too is carefully adjusted so as to aid this condition. It
I
TWO VIEWS OF TYPICAL DRYING ROOMS, WHERE FILMS ARE TRANS-
FERRED FROM THE RACKS TO THE HUGE DRYING DRUMS
210 From the Camera to the Screen
goes without saying that the drying room is barred to dust and
dirt.
Time was when the film producer had to depend on the weather
in drying his films; and on rainy days it was next to impossible
for him to make any headway. He decided, at last, to sever all
connections with the weather man; and to-day the work goes on
whether it is wet or dry outdoors. For the drying room is in
reality a little world by itself, where the dryness and the tem-
perature are regulated by the mere twist of an electric controller.
Thousands of feet of film can be dried at one time on a battery of
drying drums, and this method prevents the film from developing
troublesome bends or twists.
Drying, however carefully it is done, is never perfect; that is
to say, the film always comes out of the drying room with numer-
ous water spots which are generally the solid matter left after
the water evaporates. To remove these spots the dried film is
passed through a special polishing machine in which an arrange-
ment of soft buffers polishes the gelatine and the celluloid
sides of the film. Formerly, this polishing phase was done by
girls, using their soft palms for the purpose.
WORKING YEAR AFTER YEAR IN DARKNESS
With the negative in its finished form, we are ready to make
positive prints. As in the case of amateur photography, the nega-
tive film shows the image in reversed order, with the whites black
and the blacks in white. And just as in the case of prints on
paper, it is possible to make any number of prints from the mo-
tion-picture negative.
Positive stock is not as sensitive to light as the negative stock,
hence can be handled in a room provided with numerous ruby or
orange lamps, as compared to the almost total darkness of the
perforating and the developing rooms. Still, to the stranger
the room is uncomfortably dark when it comes to making a way
through the maze of tables and benches and chairs and machines ;
and it is with marked surprise that he notes the ease with which
the operatives carry on their work. It appears that these work-
ers, toiling day in and day out in semi-darkness, develop their
eyesight to a point where they can see almost as well in the dim
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212 From the Camera to the Screen
red light as they can at twilight outdoors. In any event, they
appear to have no trouble in this direction.
The negative film is run through a printing machine face to
face with positive stock, emulsion sides in contact. Each time a
negative image comes into position in front of an aperture, a
shutter opens and allows a flash of light to pass through the
aperture and the negative and on to the positive stock behind,
after which the two films are pulled down the space of one picture
so as to bring the next image into position. Thus the printing
operation proceeds one picture at a time until the entire negative
is run off.
That method is known as the step-by-step method of printing.
It is the one most commonly employed for commercial work.
But there is another method known as the continuous method, in
which case the negative and positive films are moved continu-
ously past a source of light. A continuous printer is far less
expensive than the step-by-step printer with its elaborate inter-
mittent movement. Yet for reasons well known to the profession
the step-by-step method has won out by a vast majority.
Now if negatives were all of one density the printing of posi-
tives would be a simple matter. But negatives vary to a large
extent, and almost every one requires a different printing time.
So the preliminary step in running off a print is to determine the
density of its negative. Some laboratories simply run off a foot
or two on the printer with different adjustments of light and then
develop the strip so as to note the tones and select the proper one.
Other laboratories have a set of negative films of varying densi-
ties, arranged in front of a lamp. By comparing any negative
with the standard samples, it is but the work of a few moments
to determine the printing time. In either case the density of the
negative is obtained and marked on the negative roll; in this
manner the girl operators at the printing machines know how to
adjust the intensity of the light or the speed of the printer when
the film comes to them.
When you hear a film man speak of "dupes," make sure of the
kind of dupe he means. Most likely he has in mind a piece of
negative film obtained not by exposure in the camera but by
contact or projection from a positive print, often the sole sur-
vivor of a ruined or lost negative.
214 From the Camera to the Screen
As previously explained in this chapter, the negative film shows
in white those parts which are to appear black in the positive^.
It is thus obvious that if by copying white one gets black, it is
just as easy to copy black and get white. So from a positive it is
merely a matter of printing to produce a negative, from which
any number of positives can be run off.
SMUGGLING A FILM OVER THE BORDER THROUGH A BEAM OF LIGHT
An interesting case of film printing occurred some years ago in
connection with certain prize-fight films which had been barred
from the United States. The promoters of the films, having paid
a vast sum of money for the rights to film the big event in
Havana, Cuba, were greatly disappointed when their product
w r as denied entrance to this country. It meant the losing of the
principal market it threatened to make their venture a loss
instead of a gain.
Then the producers conceived of an idea whereby the law could
be evaded. They would not bring the film itself into the United
States. They would merely project it into the country and copy
it on another film.
To this end a tent was erected astride the boundary between
the United States and Canada. In Canada a special projecting
machine was erected, and . its rays were focused on a special
printing machine several feet away, but in the United States.
Then the work of printing the film got under way, while the
promoters prided themselves on successfully evading the customs
officials who were present to see how the work was being car-
ried on.
But despite the ingenuity shown and despite the fact that the
film was not being imported into the United States in a material
sense, the officials ruled against the print made under such novel
conditions.
Anyone who has made prints on fast, gaslight papers realizes
how important are the light intensity and the printing time in this
kind of work. And he can therefore appreciate how careful must
the motion-picture workers be to maintain a constant and known
intensity of light in their printers, and a flawless mechanism. In
the more up-to-date laboratories each lamp is tested daily with a
photometer to ensure standard and uniform intensity.
IN SOME STUDIOS THE DIRECTOR, WHILE VIEWING THE FILM ON THE
SCREEN, DICTATES HIS TITLES AND DIRECTIONS, AND
216 From the Camera to the Screen
Like other industries the film industry has secrets of its own.
It makes little difference whether they are real secrets or just
"tours de main" for either way the fact remains that there are
things that can be done by one and not by another. Among all
the film operations which the author had witnessed up to the time
of writing the present chapter, the following two instances made
the greatest impression:
He happened to be in a laboratory one morning when two cans
of film were brought there, a large one containing various rolls of
negative film and a smaller can in which was a piece of positive
stock to be duped, the negative having been lost. After exam-
ination it was found that the negatives in the large can were all
of different densities, and, moreover, had been ruined by under-
developing and overdeveloping by some one who had tried to
correct bad exposures in the developing tank, without having the
slightest idea what he was doing. The piece of positive print for
duping proved to be so badly overdeveloped that it seemed
a hopeless case indeed.
But the laboratory expert smiled. "Zat's nothing; nothing at
all!" he said; "if you will only stay here another two or three
hours, I shall show you how I am going to do it." The author
waited and was well rewarded. For the positive prints were
even and pleasing to the eye and no one could detect the good
from the bad parts of the negative from which they were made.
Nor could one distinguish the duped piece from those printed
from original negatives. Of course, this was the work of a mas-
ter: such services make it possible to save many a scene which,
owing to some error or mishap in the filming, would otherwise be
slated for a retake.
Positive film is developed, fixed and washed much after the
manner of the negative film, after which it is dried and polished
in the ways already described. But there are occasions where cer-
tain strips are to be tinted or toned, in which event special treat-
ment is required before the final operations.
A vast difference exists between tinting and toning, although
the layman usually considers these terms as being perfectly
interchangeable. Still, tinting has to do with making the gelatine
of the positive film take on any desired color, so that the entire
picture appears in that one color and black. Toning, on the
AN ASSISTANT, FOLLOWING THE PHONOGRAPHIC DIRECTIONS, INSERTS
TITLES, AND MAKES ALL REQUIRED CHANGES
218 From the Camera to the Screen
other hand, has to do with converting the blacks into any desired
color, but leaves the high lights untouched or colorless. By com-
bining the tinting and toning operations many beautiful effects
can be obtained, such as tinting the film a light amber after
toning it a dark blue. Tinting is carried on with dyes which,
during the great war, have been quite scarce. In either tinting
or toning the treatment consists of dipping the film, as it comes
from the washing tanks, into vats of coloring matter, and remov-
ing it only after the desired shade is obtained, after which it is
given a final washing or rinsing.
HOW MOTION -PICTURE TITLES ARE MADE
Again with titles, diversity of methods is by no means lacking.
Some laboratories prefer to print the copy for titles on plain
pieces of paper, in bright red ink or black ink, thus obtaining a
positive of solid black with the letters and design in white. In
other words, the copy is photographed on positive stock so that
no printing is necessary, as many feet being exposed in the
camera as are required. This method is known as titles "in
camera" or direct positives. Another method is to print the titles
in white on black paper, thus obtaining copy for negative film
which must afterwards be printed on to positive stock. In either
case the services of a printer-compositor are required, and also a
skilled pressman who can secure clean and perfect impressions on
a small job press. For with the magnification to which motion-
picture titles are subjected, poorly jointed rules, bad alignment,
fuzzy printing all these things are exposed in exaggerated form
on the screen.
It is well to add that the type faces must be selected with care.
Heavy faces of type, known in the printing trade as bold face,
:;re generally employed for the reason that they make for clear
titles. Type with hair lines, on the other hand, is a constant
source of trouble in title making. The fine lines, if slightly over-
exposed, fill in and disappear in the blackness of the background,
causing a chopped up and unsatisfactory screen title. Hence the
advisability of avoiding the so-called "old-style" types in favor
of the bold faces.
A method of title making which has passed out of favor of late
is to lay out the titles with movable ornamental borders and
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220 From the Camera to the Screen
letters on a flat background of black plush, with the camera
pointing straight down from an overhead stand. This scheme, of
course, has to recommend it the ease with which titles can be
arranged even by an inexperienced person. But American pro-
ducers almost invariably use the so-called "card system" already
described, for the reason that the printed titles produce good,
clean-cut titles on the screen, while the cards can be filed and
rephotographed at any time.
Some producers photograph their titles directly on small glass
plates, which are then used in the printing machines for running
off the required footage of positive film. This method has in its
favor the comparatively slight cost of the glass plate as compared
to a long strip of negative film; in fact, such a system makes
possible the saving of thousands of feet of negative film a
year.
Practically all feature films to-day make use of highly orna-
mental titles with elaborate hand-lettering. A motif is included
in the border or subdued background of the principal sub-titles,
for the purpose of carrying a certain thought along with the
wording of the title, as well as to carry the eye over the changes
from picture to title and back to picture. The last-mentioned
factor is most important. Formerly, when next to no attention
was paid to eye fatigue in the production of pictures, a bright
scene would suddenly give way to a black title, only to flash back
to the said bright scene. The eye, under such circumstances,
received a severe jolt or strain; and when this effect was multi-
plied many times in the course of a performance the audience
experienced severe eye strain.
The more progressive producers have given due thought and
attention to eye fatigue. As a result the titles are now being
prepared with a view to carrying the audience over from one
scene to a title and back again with the minimum variation in
light. And to this end the title with a picture background or
motif is ideal, because it lends itself to any treatment as regards
shade. One producer makes use of a black panel which carries
the title, while the border contains the motif and the required
shade.
THE FILM IS STORED IN THE FIRE-PROOF VAULTS OF THE STUDIO UNTIL
IT LEAVES FOR THE CIRCUIT OF THEATERS
222 From the Camera to the Screen
ASSEMBLING SCENES AND TITLES INTO FILMS
By this time small rolls of positive film containing anywhere
from several feet to several hundred feet have made their way
to the assembling or cutting room, where they are ready to be
examined and cut and assembled into finished productions. Al-
though it is not generally known to the public, we never see but
the abridged film of any given production; that is to say, the
average five-reeler is actually made up from ten thousand or
more feet of film, trimmed down to five thousand. Many scenes
have to be retaken and many are found unnecessary to the story
when examined on the screen. Furthermore, every scene as
taken can usually stand some cutting; in fact, it is the clever
cutting of the scenes which makes a successful photoplay so
direct and appealing.
The footage thrown out in cutting a production is not neces-
sarily wasted. Many a progressive producer makes good use of
these cuttings in subsequent photoplays, either running them in
as scenes of a new photoplay, or working the cuttings themselves
into a production based entirely on them. Thus there are releases
issued of famous actors long after they have left a certain com-
pany. The public is told that these releases are positively new.
Cuttings are the answer to this mystery. The film company has
merely looked over its collection of cuttings and by no mean
ingenuity has constructed some sort of photoplay from the odds-
and-ends of former action.
Editing a film is perhaps the most interesting phase of moving-
picture work. The editor, usually the director himself in the case
of dramatic and comedy productions, directs the cutting and as-
sembling of the various strips of film into the complete produc-
tion; and just as the editor of a magazine reads the printer's
proofs and makes his corrections, so does the film editor view the
assembled film on the screen and make corrections and changes.
Finally, when the film is approved of, it is employed as a standard
for the assembly of duplicate films by skilled assemblers.
Packed in round cans the film reels find their way to the ex-
changes throughout the world, and from the exchanges they make
their way to the projectors in thousands of motion-picture the-
aters, there to entertain the millions of devotees of the screen.
CHAPTER XL
REPORTERS OF THE SCREEN
E PUBLIC does not depend wholly on the
newspapers for its news. It also looks to the screen
for its information. A given event is first reported
in the newspapers, thanks to the rapidity of the modern
means of news gathering, with such space annihilators as
the telegraph, cable, and wireless. But a few days or a
week or two later, the same event is pictorially reported on
the screen . The lifeless words of the printed newspaper
are eclipsed by the animated report of the screen news;
in fact, it is virtually the same as if the audience were
actually carried to the scene of the event in question. It
is the curiosity of seeing what one has already read that
makes the news films so popular.
224 Reporters of the Screen
WITH the advent of the newspaper-on-the-screen and the
magazine-on-the-screen kinds of film, the screen reporter
came into his own. There was little if any need for him
so long as the screen only presented dramas and comedies, in-
dustrial and travel pictures, his only contribution being an oc-
casional collection of foreign views or the pictorial story of some
industry. But when the American public began to lose interest
in motion pictures some years ago, when motion-picture men
really began to wonder if, after all, theirs was but a temporary
industry or a novelty, among other changes and improvements
and innovations the screen newspaper or "weekly" film made its
initial bow. And the public took to it from the very start.
The screen "weekly" called for an army of intrepid cameramen
men who not only understood the essentials of cinematography,
but knew how to tell a story in pictures. For it was appreciated
early in the game that it is quite one thing to know how to tell a
story in words, and quite another to tell it in photographs. But
the men were found; and they grew with the newspaper-on-the-
screen idea, learning week by week how to produce better pictorial
newspapers.
More recently the magazine-on-the-screen type of film has
come into being, extending the field of the screen reporters to
subjects other than those of passing interest. In fact, the latest
class of film calls for the "writer" type of cameraman who can
dig deep into any given subject, sift out the really interesting
features and then treat them pictorially so that they will be un-
derstandable and interesting to his audience. Like the "weekly"
film reporters, the magazine-on-the-screen men have grown with
their product. To-day they are turning out an animated maga-
zine which is not only enjoyed but even sought by an interested
army of screen devotees.
"THEIR'S NOT TO REASON WHY; THEIR'S BUT TO . . ."
Like the newspaper man, the screen reporter is sent out on
certain "assignments" to "cover" a given event. For instance, one
day he may be detailed to an incoming ship on which is a famous
opera singer; the next day he may be sent out to the wilds of
New Jersey 's coast line to film a wrecked steamer being pounded
to bits by an angry surf; the third day he may be called upon to
IN THESE DAYS OF SCREEN NEWSPAPERS, THE SCREEN REPORTER IS
ALWAYS TO BE FOUND WHERE SOMETHING IS HAPPENING
226 Reporters of the Screen
film a parade; and the fourth he may be told to attend a demon-
stration of a new automobile. By co-operative agreement with
some newspapers, the editor of a screen weekly is kept in touch
with all that is going on in this world of ours ; and it is for him
to decide what to "cover" and what to disregard.
Generally, the editor of a screen weekly is an old-time news-
paper man ; for above all else he must have a keen sense of news
and know how to appeal to his audience numbering in the mil-
lions. Again, he must know not a little about the possibilities and
the limitations of motion pictures; for his is the task of telling
his stories with short titles and animated pictures rather than
with columns of type. Lastly, he must be a good executive; for
he is required not only to handle s large staff of men under his
immediate orders, but also to keep in touch with correspondents
throughout the world. All of which requires a really big man.
When a certain event is to take place, the editor details or as-
signs one of his photographers to cover it. If the event is un-
usually important, two or more cameramen are assigned, but
that is only in very rare cases. As a general thing a single
cameraman is counted upon to get about the scene of action and
secure sufficient views from all angles to tell the story.
In the screen cameraman's vocabulary, the word "can't" is
strikingly conspicuous by its absence. He simply has no use for
that word, because it is not understood in his line of business.
When he is assigned to cover a certain event, he goes about his
task with the determination to get the coveted pictures no matter
what the obstacles may be. He knows that his job depends upon
it; and he acts accordingly.
WHEN IMPOSSIBLE PHOTOGRAPHIC CONDITIONS BECOME POSSIBLE
It is interesting to contrast the "news" photographer with his
brother working in the studio or with a company in the field.
The latter, to begin with, has all the equipment he requires
because facilities are near at hand. His subject is arranged to
please his fancy : the players and scenery are painted and illumi-
nated so as to photograph properly, and only when they are so is
the cameraman obliged to start cranking. And supposing the
film is not quite up to standard or supposing he desires to photo-
graph the scene twice in order to make sure of his results, there
RAIN, SNOW, DARKNESS NO MATTER WHAT THE CONDITIONS, THE
SCREEN REPORTERS MUST GET THEIR PICTORIAL STORIES
228 Reporters of the Screen
is nothing to prevent him from asking the director to repeat the
entire performance for a "retake." Indeed, everything is done
for the cameraman in the conventional drama or comedy film,
for the reason that everything depends on good photography as a
first consideration.
Now let us take up the case of the screen reporter. He goes
to cover an event. The day is dark, with occasional showers;
but needless to say the event will take place no matter what the
weather may be, and the world is not going to halt so that he may
take advantage of better light. His first difficulty, then, is that
he must contend with the poorest photographic conditions.
Arriving on the scene, he must make his way through crowds
and other obstacles and secure a position of vantage. Naturally,
there is no telling just how the subject may be when the moment
arrives as in the case of a parade or similar event, and often he
finds himself "high and dry" when the moment of action ar-
rives. In such event he must hurry with his bulky apparatus
to some other suitable location, set up his camera and grind a
few feet of film.
Speed is the very essence of success in film reporting. An event
takes place so quickly that the cameraman must act swiftly and
positively. If he has not selected the proper location in the first
place, he must quickly size up the situation and dash off to a
more favorable spot before it is too late. And even if he is for-
tunate enough to secure a good position to begin with, there are
generally other views required, such as details or close-ups of the
event calling for speed and good judgment.
Above all, be it remembered that he must "get it" the first
time. There is no such thing as a "retake" in screen reporting.
It's either a case of getting it the first time or losing it; and to
lose it means one more cameraman without a job.
A REPORTER WHO TELLS HIS STORY WITH PICTURES
The regular newspaper reporter, to be sure, also has to "come
home with the bacon." But how much easier it is in his case!
He can go about the scene gathering his facts from any number
of persons ; 'and even if he is somewhat tardy in getting about he
can depend upon his fellow reporters to supply him with the
necessary facts from which he can weave an interesting story. In
IF AN EVENT IS AT ALL WORTH NOTICING, IT IS BOUND TO DRAW A
CROWD OF MOVING-PICTURE CAMERAMEN
230 Reporters oj the Screen
fact, he can even improvise where necessary ; and surely it is not
betraying any confidence to say here that such practice is by no
means rare in American journalism.
But with the screen reporter it is a matter of reporting the real
thing: there can be no substitutes.
What to photograph and what not to photograph is largely a
matter of practice or experience. At first the cameraman is bound
to film many unimportant features and occasionally leave out
some salient one; but with increasing familiarity with his work,
the telling of a story becomes a sort of second nature. Skilled
screen reporters have acquired the knack of sizing up any given
event, getting a general view of the entire scene and then going
straight for the features that require special treatment. Nat-
urally, the cameraman is at the same time the director, for there
is no one to guide him in his work.
Take a typical instance, the inauguration of the airplane mail
service between Belmont Park, N. Y., and Washington, D. C.
The first thing a trained cameraman would do would be to secure
a general view of the airplane used, including some action such as
the mechanics walking about and inspecting the various parts.
Next, he would ask the authorities to stage some suitable action,
such as the handing of the mail bags to the aviator, and the
aviator or his assistants placing them in the mail compartment.
If no mail bags were yet on hand, dummy bags or anything re-
sembling a mail bag would be used. Then he would secure some
human interest snapshots, such as the aviator receiving a good
luck horseshoe from some foreign aviation officer, the strapping
of a map to the aviator's knee, or the wife of the aviator af-
fectionately bidding him good-bye. Lastly, the cameraman
would determine the probable direction of flight and place his
camera so as to obtain a view of the airplane running along the
ground and taking the air.
Another case is perhaps of equal interest, namely, the filming
of the unearthing of historic remains. We have in mind the
remains of a Hessian camp on the eastern slope of Inwood Hill,
at the northern end of Manhattan Island, New York City. The
first thing the cameraman would probably do would be to take
a panorama of the eastern slope of Inwood Hill, showing the
various holes where digging has been done. Next, he would show
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232 Reporters of the Screen
the diggers at work with exploring rod, pick and shovel, and
sieve, with a close-up view, perhaps, of what remained in the
sieve after sifting a lucky batch of earth and stones. Then he
would show the men at work on a reconstructed Hessian hut,
finally turning his lens to a close-up view of the man who di-
rected the undertaking.
So it goes with other subjects. The general order is always
about the same: first, the general subject, and then the details;
or, to put it another way, first the "where," then the "how,"
and finally the "why." It is generally considered good policy
to take more film than is to be used, leaving the matter of cutting
or editing to the editor.
TOOLS OF THE CAMERAMAN
Any kind of camera is available for "news" reporting, although
as a rule the heavier types of cameras are religiously avoided in
favor of the smaller and lighter varieties. The tripods, too, are
of the lightest and most compact design, so as to facilitate travel-
ing. Some cameramen have an assistant who carries the tripod,
but the less fortunate ones have to work alone, in which event
they get along with the smallest kind of camera and with a tripod
that packs to less than four feet.
Under the adverse conditions encountered in filming many
happenings, the conventional hand-cranked camera leaves much
to be desired. It is clumsy in the extreme, and much action is
lost in shifting it about. Hence it is not surprising that inventors
have been at work on the problem of evolving a better camera
for so-called "topical" work, and among the results have been
several types of hand cameras which do not require a rigid tripod
support, thanks to automatic driving means and gyroscopic sta-
bilizers. Some of these cameras operate from a portable storage
battery, and are held firmly by two handles. Another type com-
prises a number of compressed-air flasks and a pneumatic motor
which replace the hand crank, as well as a gyroscopic arrange-
ment for maintaining the camera on an even plane.
The advantage of such hand cameras can well be imagined,
for they place motion-picture photography on the same level as
regular photography. Films can be exposed while holding the
camera high above the heads in a crowd, or when the photog-
SCREEN REPORTERS USE THE LIGHTEST AND MOST COMPACT PARA-
PHERNALIA IN THEIR WORK AFIELD
234 Reporters of the Screen
rapher is in the most hazardous positions. In fact, there does
not seem to be any limit to motion pictures once the tripod is
shed, as it is in the case of these special cameras.
The name of "pirate camera" has been associated with some of
the tripod-less instruments, and for good reason. The following
stories ought to make clear the meaning of piracy as applied to
motion pictures :
THE REAL PIRATE OF THE SCREEN
When screen newspapers were still new and the competition
was keener than it is at present, competing "weeklies" vied with
each other in obtaining exclusive rights for filming certain events.
Thus important ball games and other athletic events were con-
tracted for by one or the other of the "weeklies," and the man-
agers turned over the film rights to that company in consideration
of a fair sum of money.
It was usually left to the film company to defend its rights to
the event. Which meant that precautionary methods had to be
followed to make certain that competing concerns did not secure
the coveted views, thus making the "exclusive" rights nothing but
a name or, to use a well-known term, a mere "scrap of paper."
Such a case was a big ball game played in New York City.
One of the "weeklies" paid a big price for the exclusive film rights,
and immediately set to work organizing a pseudo-detective force
to guard its rights when the day arrived. Everyone entering the
ball grounds was carefully scrutinized, for word had been received
that one of the rival concerns had recently acquired from France
a number of hand type or "pirate" cameras, which might readily
be smuggled into the grounds.
The game started; and meantime the would-be detectives of
the film company mounted guard. It was a warm day, so that
a heavy, bulky blanket on the lap of a spectator sitting in one
of the front seats soon attracted the attention of one of the film
men. He decided to risk a quarrel, for he felt that there might
be a camera hidden in that heavy blanket; at any rate, there was
no reason for carrying a blanket on a day like this. A few mo-
ments later he was confronting the suspicious one, and unwrap-
ping the blanket before the latter knew what was happening.
The amateur detective's guess was quite correct: a "pirate"
236 Reporters of the Screen
camera was brought to view, and the first attempt to "steal"
the game was foiled.
But luck was not with the film company holding the exclusive
rights to the game. Elsewhere a "pirate" camera was at work,
hidden inside a large press camera of the reflecting type then so
much in vogue among press photographers. By pressing a button
and starting the pneumatic motor, the competing cameraman
secured all the views he desired. And the first time the legitimate
film company knew of the piracy was when they saw the pirate
film on a Broadway screen, 24 hours ahead of their own release !
However, the story reads like a novel, for the villain of the
piece is punished good and proper in due course. It happened
some time later, when the second company, which had succeeded
in pirating the big ball game, tried its hand at exclusive rights
by contracting for a momentous ball game in Brooklyn, at a
field overlooked by a row of tall flat houses.
Now the first company was intent on getting scenes of this
game, and consequently dispatched a cameraman and a few as-
sistants to one of the flat houses overlooking the enclosed field.
Everything went well until the cameraman in the ball grounds
suddenly espied his rival grinding away on the flat-house roof a
block away. With rare presence of mind he gave a pocket mirror
to his assistant, with the orders that he flash a reflected ray of
sunlight into the rival's lens. This was immediately done; and
to the dismay of the pirate cameraman he had to give up crank-
ing. Try as he would he was unable to avoid the beam of sun-
light which followed him about. He tried sun shades and even
shifted his position, but every time the sinister beam got through
to his lens.
"Why not come back at this fellow," he thought. So he dis-
patched one of his assistants downstairs in search of a mirror.
The first call was on a benevolent old lady on the top floor, who
soon understood the situation and helped out with her husband's
shaving mirror. The triumphant assistant returned to the roof
and soon was shining a beam of sunlight into the lens of the
cameraman in the field, who stopped short. Perhaps he cursed
long and loudly, but he was too far away to be heard.
He too tried to avoid the troublesome beam, but with no suc-
cess ; for the mirror manipulator on the roof had plenty of room
FILM CONTAINERS AND PRINTING MACHINES WHICH FIGURE IN THE
"PRINTING" OF THE SCREEN NEWSPAPER
238 Reporters of the Screen
in which to maneuver and place his spot of light in almost any
part of the field from which suitable views could be "shot."
Precious minutes were being wasted. The cameraman below
soon saw the futility of this mirror battle and decided to sur-
render. With a wave of his hand signifying unconditional sur-
render, he made his assistant stop shining the mirror. The man
on the roof did likewise. Both sides resumed their interrupted
grinding. And the first company the one which had been on
the roof secured just the pictures it wanted to the dismay of the
original pirate concern.
The activities of film pirates soon made it unwise to contract
for exclusive film rights at exhorbitant figures; and the practice
has long since ceased. Nowadays all film companies participate
in the general run of events and count on winning out by getting
their pictures first before the public, or establishing what is
called a "scoop" in newspaperdom.
Nothing is more perishable than news films. They must be
rushed through the developing and printing processes in order to
reach the screen in record time. Some remarkably fast time has
been made, such as the filming of important boat races in the
afternoon, the developing and printing of the film while en route,
and its exhibition on the screen 75 miles away that night.
WITH A VIEW TO THE FUTURE
Not only has the cameraman his assignment in view, but he
also keeps one eye open for any possible scenes which may be
available in future productions. Thus, if on his way to an as-
signment, he comes across an important fire, he may stop if time
permits in order to film a hundred feet or so. Again, if he hap-
pens to come across an important racing meet, he may film many
scenes not required for the weekly in order to secure "stock" for
his firm. Indeed, it is these very "stock" films which often furnish
an idea for a feature production. We have in mind a series of
excellent views of a big race down in Kentucky, which furnished
the theme for a five-reel production which was made two years
later. It is for the director of a company of players to decide
just how he can work the "stock" material into his pictures so
that dove-tail continuity will result.
With the introduction of the magazine-on-the-screen class of
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film the field of the cameraman has been widely extended. As far
as difficulties are concerned, subjects for the "magazine" film are
perhaps easier to obtain for the reason that haste is not an essen-
tial factor. The cameraman can go about his work with plenty
of time to spare, so long as he tells his story properly. It is
simply a repetition of the newspaper man and the magazine
writer: the former must hustle about to get his story in on time,
while the latter, while more leisurely in his work, must be more
thorough and more painstaking.
Both the screen "newspaper" and "magazine" have their cor-
respondents scattered throughout the world. These correspond-
ents are generally local photographers or amateurs who have
taken a liking to motion pictures and have purchased a complete
outfit. They take pictures of local happenings and things of
wide interest, both on their own initiative and on telegraphic or-
der from film editors. The exposed film is usually forwarded to
the film editor in the undeveloped state, and is rushed through
the developing room and drying room so that the negative can be
examined with a view to purchasing it. Accepted film is paid for
at rates varying from thirty-five cents to one dollar per foot,
depending upon its importance and timeliness. Obviously, lead-
ing "news" events command the highest rates.
The out-of-town correspondent is as indispensable to the film
editor as the contributor is to the magazine editor. For no matter
how big one's organization may be, it is simply impracticable and
impossible to cover this whole wide world at all times. So local
happenings in remote sections are left to the tender mercies of
"free lance" photographers who are only too anxious to make the
most of every opportunity which may mean a sale of film.
The "newspaper" and "magazine" films are only in their in-
fancy. There is in store for both of them a future equally as
brilliant as that of the other films in which tears and laughter
and intrigue are pledged to our entertainment.
CHAPTER XII.
PUTTING IT ON THE SCREEN
r j jHE FINAL LINK in the motion-picture process
I is the operator in the theatre. Equipped with a pro-
*" jector and several reels of film comprising the day's
"program," the operator is the whole company in a
motion-picture performance. Upon rim rests the success
o/ a photoplay; for, even if the producer has turned over to
him the very best feature that can be made, the operator can
ruin it before the eyes of his audience by faulty projec-
tion. And there is much to be learned about projecting
pictures. The skilled operator must understand his work
thoroughly, and be a more or less handy man with tools.
He must be conscientious; for hundreds and thousands
of dollars* worth of films pass through his hands every
working week films which must go on to other theatres
before they have served their full purpose. So here is an
opportunity of giving due credit to the last link in the
motion-picture business the operator.
242 Putting It On the Screen
THE final destination of all motion-picture film is the
projecting machine. For it is in passing through the
projector that the film is transferred to the screen, where
it can be seen and enjoyed by the millions of film devotees.
And the operator of the projecting machine is the final man in
the film industry, occupying a position somewhat similar to that
of the salesman in business. Both stand between the manufac-
turer and the consumer. But there is this vital difference: the
salesman passes the product to the consumer as it is ; the operator
takes the product and handles it in such a manner that it may be
excellent or poor. The best photoplay ever produced can be
ruined before the eyes of the audience. So, in the final reckoning,
the operator is as important as other links in the film chain; and
every producer is at the mercy of the operator who handles his
film, and the projector employed in projecting it.
THE MOTION-PICTURE CAMERA REVERSED
Although the motion-picture pioneers in many instances made
use of their camera for projection purposes, that does not mean
to say that the camera is ideal for the purpose. Indeed, while the
projector and the camera may have much in common, their re-
spective functions are sufficiently different to require a wide
divergence in design. In each case, of course, the intermittent
movement is used for the film; each image is brought into posi-
tion behind the lens, a shutter opens and then closes, and the film
is shifted to the next image, and so on. In the camera the shutter
is behind the lens, while in the projector it is usually in front of
the lens. In one case the virgin film is exposed, while in the
other the finished film is thrown up on the screen in greatly
magnified form.
The modern projector consists essentially of a feed reel maga-
zine or upper magazine, a take-up reel magazine or lower maga-
zine, a film gate and lens system, a revolving shutter, a powerful
source of light, an intermittent movement, and the film sprockets,
idlers, presser rollers, springs, belts, pulleys and other accessories.
Feeding out of the top fireproof magazine or container, the
film unwinds from the reel and passes through a pair of tightly
pressed rollers which constitute what is known as a magazine
fire trap or fire valve. It then passes over a constantly rotating
244 Putting It On the Screen
sprocket and a film-steady drum or film steadier to the film gate,
where it is in the path of the powerful light source and the lens
system. Thence it passes over the intermittent sprocket and the
lower steady-feed sprocket, through the lower magazine fire trap
and on to the take-up reel, as depicted on page 251.
As in the camera, the film is provided with two loops, one
before it passes through the film gate and one after it has passed.
The object of these loops is to provide for the difference between
the -steady feeding or constant movement and the intermittent
movement. Obviously, if the film were threaded through the
sprockets without loops, the intermittent movement could not
operate without danger of tearing the film. So loops are pro-
vided; at one end of the loop the film is fed or taken, up, as the
case may be, continuously, while at the other it is fed or taken
up intermittently. The loop shortens and lengthens each time the
intermittent movement operates, but the same amount of loop is
maintained. In this connection it is interesting to note that the
patents covering the loop arrangement of the film, for years con-
trolled the film industry. So important is the loop that it is
practically impossible to design a camera or a projector without
that simple device. Possessing the Latham Loop patents, the
motion-picture trust enjoyed a monopoly to the exclusion of all
others until a few years ago, when the courts finally decided in
favor of the independent producers who had been spending the
better part of their time in the courts.
HOW A HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE MATERIAL IS HANDLED
Film is highly inflammable; indeed, it is but another form of
gun-cotton. If by chance it is left for a second or less in the
powerful beam of the projector, it bursts into flame. It must be
kept moving at 12 or more "frames" per second. So in its
handling all manner of precautions must be taken to prevent
fires. As already stated, the two metal magazines of a projector
are provided with fire traps or fire valves, usually consisting of a
pair of metal rollers close to each other and between which passes
the film. All of the approved makes of fire traps have been
subjected to fire tests, and they have proved entirely satisfactory.
That is to say, a piece of burning film is extinguished before it
attains the interior of a magazine fitted with fire valves.
THE PROJECTING MACHINE IS NOTHING MORE THAN THE CAMERA RE-
VERSED, AS FAR AS PRINCIPLE IS CONCERNED
246 Putting It On the Screen
Now in addition to the fire valves there is another safeguard
against fire on practically all commercial projectors. An auto-
matic fire shutter or safety curtain is provided for the purpose
of shutting off the powerful beam of light when the machine is
not operating at the standard speed. This device is required by
most city ordinances. The ideal fire shutter is one that is so con-
trolled by the mechanism that it remains up or clear of the beam
of light as long as the film is passing through the film gate at
the proper speed, but drops down and masks the rear side of the
film when the speed diminishes to a point beyond which the film is
apt to get overheated. The fire shutter, when in proper working
order, is no doubt a great protection, although it should not be
relied upon entirely. Most fire shutters depend upon the move-
ment of the projector mechanism; and in instances where the film
comes to rest through ripped sprocket holes and the mechanism
operates all the while without affecting the film, the shutter does
not function. The result is a film fire, unless the operator is alert
for just such a contingency.
A film fire with a good projector is generally a passing inci-
dent, without serious consequence other than the ruining of a
foot or two of film. On the screen the fire may sometimes be
detected, when the film is seen to melt away, as it were. The fire
traps prevent the fire from attaining the film reels in the maga-
zines, and the operator promptly throws the light over to one
side, clear of the film. Rethreading the end of the film from the
top magazine, through the various sprockets and idlers to an
empty reel in the take-up magazine, the operator is generally
able to start up again in a minute or two. After the entire film
has been run off, he cuts the burnt ends of the film evenly and
cements them together. Of course, some of the action is missing,
which accounts for jumps in certain films. Generally, the missing
action is so small that its absence is really insignificant, and the
film is but slightly impaired.
It is because of the fire hazard that the fire underwriters oblige
projectors to be employed in fireproof booths of asbestos. In
large theaters these booths are elaborate sructures of asbestos
board and steel framing, with all the fixtures of fireproof design.
For temporary purposes tent-like asbestos booths are available,
which can be pitched up in a few minutes' time. With such a
a
KM
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248 Putting It On the Screen
structure about a film projector, the fire hazard is reduced to a
minimum; in fact, even with the modern projector alone the fire
hazard is quite slight because of the various safeguards on the
machine itself.
MULTIPLYING FLICKERS TO ELIMINATE THEM
It is not so many years ago that motion pictures were photo-
graphically poor and trying on the eyes. Aside from every con-
ceivable photographic fault, the films flickered in a most annoy-
ing manner. Yet to-day the animated pictures are practically
flickerless. Audiences no longer complain of tired eyes and
oculists have ceased preaching about the harmful effects of
cinematography. Why?
In the early pictures the rate of taking was usually twelve per
second, although sixteen was by no means unheard of. And when
sixteen became the standard rate, the films were still full of
flicker. The shutter, revolving in the path of the light, chopped
off the beam sixteen times per second. But the eye can easily
detect light variations that slow, and so the pronounced flicker
resulted.
For years pictures flickered, when suddenly projector designers
gave mathematics a cruel blow. By multiplying the flickers they
produced a zero effect. That is to say, they replaced the single-
blade shutter by a two- or three-blade shutter. Or in the case
of a single-blade shutter they geared the shutter to make two
revolutions for every film image, so that the light beam was cut
off once while the film was moving, and once while the image was
held stationary. In the case of the two- and three-blade shutters,
the light was cut off while the film moved, and once or twice while
the image was at rest. The result of increasing the flickers has
been to cut up the light interval so as to make a less marked
contrast between the dark period, when the light is shut off
entirely, and the light period when the image is being projected.
TRANSLATING CONSTANT MOVEMENT INTO REGULAR JERKS
In the case of the motion-picture camera various mechanical
movements are employed for shifting the film one image at a
time, while the shutter masks the lens. The most common move-
ments are the claw, which consists of two claw-like or hook mem-
THE EXIGENCIES OF THE GREAT WAR PROVED THAT OPERATING WAS
NOT BARRED TO THE GENTLE SEX
250 Putting It On the Screen
bers engaging with the film sprocket holes, and the so-called
drunken screw movement, in which a pair of pins engages with
the sprocket holes. In either case the film-engaging members
are moved into a pair of sprocket holes, then moved down a
definite distance, and then disengaged, only to be shifted up and
pressed into another pair of sprocket holes in time to pull down
the next image.
In the projector a similar movement is employ ed, although the
mechanical details are somewhat different. Instead of claws,
the projector makes use of the intermittent sprocket, which
receives its intermittent movement through its mechanism. The
latter is generally of two types: the Geneva Cross and the Cam
and Cross Pin. The object of these movements is to shift the
film very rapidly so as to allow the greatest possible length of
time for the stationary picture. This feature, 00, makes for a
minimum of light required. What is more, film is not an extra
strong material, especially when the purchase is merely two
sprocket holes with a thin strip of celluloid between them. Hence
it becomes necessary to jerk the film with great care it should
be started slowly, then increased in speed, and then brought to a
gradual stop.
The Geneva movement fulfills these conditions so well that it
is largely employed to-day. By referring to the accompanying
drawings, it will be noted that it consists of a "pin wheel," A,
which is geared to the mechanism and therefore has a steady
rotation, and the Geneva Cross, B, with its four deep slots en-
gaging with the pin wheel. The cross, it will immediately be
obvious, is connected to the sprocket, so that its movements are
directly transmitted to the sprocket. Now the pin wheel is also
provided with a cam band, C, which is cut away sufficiently to
permit the cross to make a quarter revolution and no more. In
this manner the film is positively moved the same distance each
time.
It does not require much of a mechanical mind to grasp the
operation of this device. As the pin wheel rotates, its pin enters
one slot of the cross and carries it along until the cross has made a
quarter turn, by which time the cam band is in position to prevent
further movement while the pin disengages itself from the slot.
The pin, turning with the pin wheel, comes around again and
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252 Putting It On the Screen
engages the next slot, repeating the cycle as often as the projector
continues to be operated. This movement is ideal for the pur-
pose, for the film is moved slowly at first, rapidly toward the
middle of the cycle, and then slowed up before the disengagement.
The film is thus subjected to a minimum wear and tear.
A form of intermittent movement which is of more recent
conception than the Geneva Cross is the Cam and Cross Pin,
which is shown in another set of sketches. Here the mechanism
comprises four -prime members, namely, a diamond-shaped cam,
a locking ring, a pin cross, and a sprocket. The cam and locking
ring are formed together on the face of a solid steel disk. The
four pins of the pin cross are formed from the end of a solid
cylinder of steel. The remainder of this cylinder is turned down
to the proper diameter to act as a spindle upon which the sprocket
is securely fastened. These details are only mentioned by way of
illustrating the great care exercised in making an intermittent
movement; for after all is said and done the intermittent move-
ment is the very heart of the projector. It is the weakest link,
so to speak, inasmuch as the success or failure of the projector
originates in this movement.
The operation of the Cam and Cross Pin is also readily fol-
lowed. At every revolution of the driving disk, the cross makes a
quarter of a revolution because of the diamond shaped section of
the cam, while the remainder of the cam locks the pin cross in
position during movements. It is claimed for this intermittent
movement that it moves the film in the shortest time of any.
No matter what the type of intermittent movement may be, it
is generally contained in an oil or grease bath, so as to reduce
the wear and tear to a minimum, and to reduce the noise of clash-
ing parts.
HAND AND MOTOR CRANKING
The turning of a single main shaft operates all the mechanism
of a motion-picture projector. The main shaft, by means of
gears and belts, turns the film reels, operates the intermediate
sprockets and idlers, twirls the shutter, and drives the intermit-
tent movement.
The first projectors were hand driven, the operator cranking
the handle hour in and hour out while at work. But this is tire-
ABOVE: FUNCTIONING OF THE CAM AND CROSS PIN MOVEMENT. BE-
LOW: COMPONENTS OF THE CAM AND CROSS PIN MOVEMENT
254 Putting It On the Screen
some and unnecessary labor; and it was not very long before
motors were attached to the projector, leaving the operator free
to supervise the projection, unhampered and unimpaired by the
erstwhile cranking. The electric motors employed for projection
machines are small ones, driving the main shaft through the
medium of a variable-speed friction drive and belt transmission.
After loading and threading the projector, the operator has but
to turn on the light and snap the switch to start the picture, after
which the work practically takes care of itself.
When two films of different frame lines or when films of
uniform frame line are carelessly patched together, the
image or picture is said to be "out of frame"; that is why it
sometimes happens that a house is cut in two horizontally, the
lower part being on top of the roof; or a man is cut in two, with
his feet resting on his head. The remedy for this trouble is any
one of the numerous systems of framing, which enable the op-
erator to set the image in frame again, almost immediately,
by means of a lever.
So far the projector has been completely covered with the single
exception of the source of light. Hence a short survey of the
various methods of furnishing light for film projection is now
undertaken.
It is no simple matter to pass a large volume of light through
such an opaque object as a film image, especially when the trans-
mitted light is to be enlarged thousands of times on a distant
screen. Indeed, tens of thousands of candlepower must be used
for the purpose, and the consumption of current is necessarily
great.
The most satisfactory light for motion-picture projection has
been the arc lamp, consisting of two carbon pencils between which
plays an electric flame or arc of bluish-white hue. The arc proper
is due to the vapors of volatilized carbon or other materials
forming the electrodes, which are slowly consumed by the action
of the electric current. In order to form the arc, the electrodes
must first be brought together, and then separated a short dis-
tance. The flame or arc when adjusted the proper length, is prac-
tically silent in the case of direct current, although it hums in the
case of alternating current. If the arc is too short, it sputters
or "fries," and the light is unsatisfactory. When the proper arc
OH
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256 Putting It On the Screen
has been struck, means must be taken to feed the carbons toward
each other, since they are constantly consumed, tending to
lengthen the arc. If the carbons are not fed toward each other
at regular intervals, the arc soon increases to such a length that
the current can no longer bridge the gap and the arc is ex-
tinguished.
Various mechanical methods of feeding the arc are in use, the
most common being a gear and ratchet arrangement of the design
shown, wherein the two carbons are fed toward each other so as
to maintain the arc always opposite the center of the lens system.
Other adjustments for the arc lamp, or what goes to comprise
the arc stand, shift the arc to the right or left, up or down, and
forward or backward, so as to obtain the best projection.
There have been attempts to feed the carbons mechanically,
making the work of the operator still less trying. One very
ingenious arrangement comprised an electric motor operating the
carbons through an elaborate transmission system. The motor
was started and stopped by the varying resistance of the arc: as
the arc increased in length and the resistance mounted, the motor
was started; and when the carbons were again brought to the
proper distance, reducing the resistance of the arc, the motor
stopped. Successful as the device was in operation, it does not
seem to have met with universal favor, probably due to its great
cost in comparison to that of the entire projector. So for the
most part the operator has to feed his arc by hand, watching it
every little while during the projecting of a picture to see that the
screen image is well illuminated.
More recently an attempt has been made to replace the arc
light with an incandescent bulb of the gas-filled, high-efficiency
sort. Leading research engineers have succeeded in evolving
successful illuminating means for motion-picture work, and it is
now possible to obtain a brilliant white image on a 10 by 13 foot
screen, at a distance of 80 feet. Better projection results from
the use of the incandescent lamp. When once adjusted it requires
no further attention, thus permitting the operator to devote his
entire time and thought to the actual projection of the picture.
Constant adjustment is eliminated and a steadier illumination is
assured, especially in cases where alternating current is used.
Economy is the watchword of the incandescent lamp. It
ss
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258 Putting It On the Screen
effects an approximate 25 per cent reduction in operating ex-
penses. A further saving, which can hardly be estimated, is also
made through decreased condenser breakage due to the fact that
an incandescent lamp does not generate the excessive heat of the
arc. Thus the condensers are not subjected to such extreme
temperatures, which greatly increases their life.
Best results are obtained when the incandescent lamp is used
in its proper sphere of duty. To expect it to project a 16 by 20
foot picture will only result in disappointment. Constant ex-
perimentation is under way to produce a still higher wattage in-
candescent lamp that will stand up under practical usage. While
it is only a question of time before such a lamp is perfected,
it is obvious that the incandescent lamp equipment cannot be
used under any and all conditions until the higher wattage lamp
has become a certainty.
In conclusion, the incandescent lamp is unexcelled in its proper
sphere, which is a limited sized image for a limited throw. But
when it comes to large images with large throws, such as for the
use of large theaters, the arc is still the only satisfactory il-
luminant.
THE MAN BEHIND THE PROJECTOR
As was stated in the opening paragraphs of this chapter, the
ultimate success of a photoplay depends on the operator of the
projector. He can present the photoplay film as it really is, or
he can ruin it before the eyes of the audience.
While it is true that the projection of film is largely a matter
of routine, the operator must be something of a mechanic. Pro-
jecting machines are elaborate mechanical contraptions and there
are numerous adjustments that require attention from time to
time. And the operator must know his business, for much de-
pends on his skill and experience in the success of a show. Again,
he must be conscientious, because with each reel of film repre-
senting an investment of one hundred or more dollars, much
property is placed in his care. The exchanges, or film brokers,
are to a large extent at the tender mercies of the operators, who
handle the reels which are hired out by the day. Some careless
operators ruin many a reel of film beyond repair, but these men
are few and far between. As a general thing, however, the op-
erators respect the trust that is placed with them.
CHAPTER XIII.
PICTURES IN NATURAL COLORS
/'T IS NOT because natural-color films are impossible
or impractical that black-and-white films persist.
There are today numerous systems for producing
natural-color films of the practical sort, which may be
shown in any theatre equipped with standard apparatus.
These natural-color films reproduce all the colors of Nature
with utmost fidelity. In fact, the screen picture becomes
an almost perfect reproduction of the prototype, whatever
it may be. Still, black-and-white films continue to be
shown . Producers have not taken very kindly to natural-
color films for good and sufficient reasons. Scenic and
scientific subjects are worthy of natural-color reproduction;
but when it comes to the photoplay, they prefer to continue
with black-and-white, for the time being at least.
260 Pictures in Natural Colors
REPRODUCTION in natural colors is the goal of modern
photography. Of that there can be no doubt; for a't best
the black-and-white reproduction is a makeshift or sub-
stitute, in lieu of the more realistic reproduction which must come
in time. And that is precisely why numerous inventors in many
lands have devoted time and energy and purse to the solution
of the color photography problem. Wonderful results have been
obtained, to be sure ; huge sums of money have been invested in
some of the. processes, which proved so successful in the labora-
tory and at the public demonstration; but as a whole the color
picture has been slow in attaining commercial realization.
THE LABORATORY AND THE WORKADAY WORLD
It is quite one thing to obtain wonderful color pictures and
quite another to make a business success of a process. With
money as a secondary consideration, it is possible to develop
wonderfully faithful pictures in natural colors. Time and again
that has been done, and the press has been free in its praise
of the results obtained. But pictures are a business after all, and
sooner or later the matter of dollars and cents comes up. How
much does it cost? How much extra equipment has to be in-
stalled? Is any extra help required? What do the films cost
to hire? Those are but a few of the questions asked by the
exhibitors; and it depends entirely on the answers whether the
process in question is to be a commercial success or failure. Many
a color-picture inventor has made promising progress until he
encountered those questions, and his hopes have been dashed to
pieces against that impenetrable wall isolating him from the
public and fortune.
A color picture process must be realistic, in the first place.
Its value as a picture must be such as to make it worth its dif-
ference in rental or cost over the black-and-white film. Then
it must be inexpensive, both for the film and the equipment
required. If the process requires an elaborate projector in addi-
tion to the usual equipment of the theater, its chances of com-
mercial success are then and there greatly reduced. Most ex-
hibitors are slow to install additional equipment unless it is
quite imperative ; and it is obviously difficult to induce the pur-
chase of several hundred or several thousand dollars worth of
I s
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262 Pictures in Natural Colors
equipment just for the occasional showing of a color picture. It
is exactly the same as if a man, owning say a Victorila, were asked
to purchase a Jonesola just for the sake of being able to play the
special records made by the King of Timbuctoo. The question
would be: Are the records of that king worth the price of a
machine only good for those records? Decidedly not; and so
with the special projector.
To be a commercial success, then, a color picture must require
the minimum of special projection apparatus, preferably none
at all. The films must be foolproof, and not too expensive to
purchase or rent. And it is because so few processes have been
able to meet those requirements that natural color pictures are
still a rarity,
WHAT ARE NATURAL COLOR PICTURES?
There exists a general misunderstanding concerning natural
color pictures. The public is ready to accept all colored pictures
as natural color ones, whereas there is a vast difference.
Early in the motion-picture industry colored films made their
appearance. These films, which in nine caseg out of ten were
produced in France, were delightfully and realistically colored.
But they were not natural color films. Each little image, measur-
ing but one inch by three-quarter inch, was painted by hand. It
was a tedious handiwork to be sure ; and it required the skill and
patience of hundreds of French girls to tint the films for the
entertainment of world-wide audiences.
In order to save time, various labor-saving methods were
introduced, although the work perforce remained a slow and
painstaking one. The general practice was for one worker to go
through one scene, painting just a single character, tree, house,
sky or other background, in each image, in successive order, in
one color. Thus the minimum of time was required, since it was
not necessary to pick up various brushes for various shades, with
the ever present danger of making mistakes. And when one little
detail had been tinted throughout a scene, the same worker or
another worker began on another detail, and so on until every
image became a fully colored picture.
Wherever possible, stencils were employed for reducing the
PROPERTIES AND SCENES ARE NOW PAINTED IN PLAIN PHOTOGRAPHIC
COLORS, WITH A MINIMUM OF WORK
264 Pictures in Natural Colors
time and labor required. But even so, the work was at best quite
expensive, although most pleasing to audiences.
Coming to natural color pictures, however, it must be made
clear from the very start that there is no painting of any kind
connected with them. Photography, and photography alone, is
depended upon to reproduce any scene or object in its natural
colors. Dyes and toning chemicals are employed in some proc-
esses, to be sure, but there is no painting in the accepted sense
of the word.
MIXING COLORS TO OBTAIN PURE WHITE
Almost everyone has at one time or another become acquainted
with the glass prism and its peculiar properties, among them the
breaking up of a ray of white light into red, orange, yellow, green,
blue, and violet. These colors, mixed in varying degree, produce
any shade known to the human eye. And these same colors, when
mixed in the proper proportions, produce pure white. The three
primary colors are red, blue, and yellow, and it is the proper use
of these colors upon which natural color photography is based.
In photography there are certain devices known as color filters
or ray filters. These devices, consisting generally of strips of
colored glass made to fit in front of a camera lens, have the
peculiar property of allowing certain colors to pass quite freely
while barring others. Thus if a red ray filter is employed, the
print resulting from the negative will bring out the red values of
the object to the detriment of the other color values. But if we
photograph the same object through a blue ray filter and then
through a yellow filter, making separate lantern slides of each,
we have the three primary color values of that object. If we
could possibly project these three lantern slides, all of the one
size, so that their images would coincide, using a red light for
the red image, blue for the blue, and yellow for the yellow, we
would obtain a natural color image. In brief, that is the prin-
ciple of color photography.
Before entering the subject of natural color films, it is neces-
sary first to explain a peculiar property of the human eye,
namely, that known as the persistency of vision. We believe our
eye to be quick to see, and so it is. But we may be disappointed,
perhaps, to be told that the eye responds comparatively slowly.
MAKING A NATURAL-COLOR FILM OF AN AQUARIUM. IN THIS CATEGORY
THE NATURAL-COLOR FILM IS A NECESSITY
266 Pictures in Natural Colors
In fact, motion pictures of the black-and-white variety depend
upon the persistence of vision for their illusion. The eye retains
one image until the next is projected in its place, and before the
eye can forget the second a third is projected, and so on. To the
eye the images appear as one, for the dissolving effect of one
into the other is produced in the eye because of the rate of
projection. And so with color pictures. In reality, the images
may not be in full color. Each one is of a distinct shade in most
systems; but the successive images are so arranged that the red
and blue, or whatever colors are used, follow each other with
such rapidity that the eye retains two or three images at a time,
giving the full color effect.
One of the earliest commercial natural color film processes
made its appearance in December, 1907, in England, as the result
of the untiring efforts of an Englishman and an American. This
method dispensed with one of the components of white light,
namely, blue-violet, and used but two, red and green, of the
required colors. The red, of course, contained some yellow, being
more on the orange, while the green contained blue and yellow,
and in this manner it was possible to dispense with the yellow,
generally speaking. The images were made at the rate of 32 per
second, through red and green color filters arranged on a wheel
turning in front .of the film. Thus one image was photographed
with the red filter, while the next was photographed with the
green, and so on.
The positive film made from the negative was black-and-
white in appearance, but it contained the latent color values. It
only needed a special projector adapted to the speed of 32 per
second and equipped with a color wheel working in synchronism
with the images to produce the illusion of full color pictures,
thanks to the persistency of vision phenomenon. The red images
were projected when the red sector of the color wheel was in the
line of projection, and the green images when the green sector was
aligned.
The inventors at first met with considerable success. Their
pictures were remarkably clear and realistic, although when rap-
idly moving objects were presented there appeared a red or green
fringe about the outlines, indicating that successive images did
not coincide or register, although in black-and-white this would
THESE BLACK-AND-WHITE FILMS ARE USED WITH COLOR-WHEEL AT-
TACHMENTS. NOTE THE DIFFERENCES IN TONE
268 Pictures in Natural Colors
pass unnoticed. American audiences have never forgotten the
splendid color productions made in this country, as well as the
Durbar films made in India and the Coronation of King George
V. in England.
The process required a special projector, which made its em-
ployment rather prohibitive in small theaters. Again, twice the
footage of black-and-white film was required, adding materially
to the cost of the film. But for the larger theaters where the cost
was but a small consideration, the film was available.
INGENIOUS COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY SCHEMES
This color photography system was the first commercially
exploited natural color film. But ever since its initial bow before
the public there have been no end of others, some good, some
poor, but most of them for one reason or another not available
for commercial exploitation.
Among the more elaborate schemes have been those depending
on the simultaneous projection of all the color images forming a
single "frame." One of these made use of an extra wide film
on which were photographed "red," "blue" and "yellow" images
simultaneously, through one lens but with the rays of light split
so as to pass through various ray filters. In projecting the reverse
process was employed: the various images were projected on the
screen by means of red, blue, and yellow lights.
The results obtained with this system were well-nigh perfect.
Why shouldn't they be? The principle was technically correct.
But when the process left the laboratory and the private demon-
stration room it met with rather a cold reception on the part
of the trade. The special equipment and the great cost of the
extra-sized film made it a poor commercial proposition.
Working on an entirely different reasoning, other inventors
have tried to produce film which could be used in the standard
projector. Thus they have had the small exhibitor in mind as
well as the largest. One of these schemes which is typical of
most of them is to use both sides of the positive film, thus pro-
jecting two images in a common frame at one time. The method
is as follows:
In the camera two negative films are exposed at one time.
One negative records the "red" image, while the other records
K
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270 Pictures in Natural Colors
the " blue-green." A prism is employed for splitting the light
rays passing through the common lens. When the negatives have
been developed, they are printed on to either side of a double-
coated positive film which has a yellow celluloid stock. The
object of the yellow is to prevent actinic light from passing freely
through the celluloid and interfering with the images on the other
side. The "red" negative is printed on one side, while the "blue"
is printed on the other. Then the positive is developed and tinted
red on the "red" side and blue on the "blue." The positive,
obviously, contains the image in color: by holding it up to the
light the coinciding red and blue images appear as one full color
image, the yellow of the celluloid supplying the yellow required
to obtain all shades. Of course, it is not possible to obtain pure
white with such film, but white is obtained by contrast. An
example of what is meant by contrast is to be found in the daily
newspaper: offhand, we all say that a newspaper is white-
white because it appears so in contrast with the black printing.
But if the newspaper is placed on clean snow it is soon evident
that it is anything but white. So with the film mentioned; the
white is obtained by contrast.
Another scheme makes use of either the 32-pictures-per-second
negatives already described, or negatives made in the same man-
ner; that is to say, at a high rate of speed with alternate "red"
and "green" images. These negatives are printed on both sides of
positive film which is then tinted red and green, and can be em-
ployed in standard projectors.
Still another scheme makes a "red" and a "green" image at a
time, by means of a prism arrangement using the common lens.
The images are 'arranged in the usual order, but instead of being
made successively as in the first-mentioned process, a pair is
made at one time, and then another pair, and so on. The film is
moved at the rate of 16 pairs, or 32 images, per second. The
positive, which is printed from the negative, is then arranged for
dyeing. Little blocks are placed over each "green" image and the
film placed in the red dye, after which the blocks are shifted over
the "red" images and the film placed in the green dye. In pro-
jecting this film a special machine is required, projecting two
images at a time and shifting by pairs instead of by single
images.
\
TYPICAL NATURAL-COLOR CAMERA WITH LENS-BOARD REMOVED, SHOW-
ING COLOR-WHEEL AND RAY FILTERS
272 Pictures in Natural Colors
Of late there has been developed a new process which in many
ways appears to be an improvement on other processes. Indeed,
this process reproduces objects at rest and in motion, and in
nearly all shades and colors found in nature. The detail is just
as complete as that of the black-and-white film. Aside from the
faithful reproduction of the subjects, the new pictures display an
almost complete absence of the objectionable color fringe found
in some of the other processes, when fast moving objects are por-
trayed. But its main advantages are simplicity and wide ap-
plicability: the film can be handled by the ordinary operator in
the standard projector, by means of a simple and inexpensive
attachment which in no way interferes with the projection of
black-and-white film at will. Thus it is possible for the smallest
theater to show color pictures as part of its usual program.
A STUDY IN COLORS AND COLOR COMBINATIONS
Four colors, made up of two pairs of complementary colors, are
involved in the new process. The first pair is composed of red
and blue-green, and the second of orange (or yellow) and blue.
These four shades photographically cover the entire range of
visible colors. The reduction to a substantial white from each
pair of images and the fact that all colors overlap, enable the
pictures to be made with but little apparent differences in densi-
ties; and this feature is further brought about by the addition
of other elements in the making of the film. These factors render
unnecessary special laboratory equipment other than that used in
black-and-white cinematography.
In taking the new pictures the camera controls a single strip
of panchromatic film film whose emulsion is sensitive to all
color rays of standard width and perforation, this being pulled
down step by step back of a single lens as in usual practice. Be-
tween the lens and the film, however, two shutters are employed,
the usual one to cover the film during the period when the film
is moving, and another to bring into position the color filters
through which light rays must pass before reaching the film dur-
ing exposure. As each ray filter comes into alignment with the
lens, one image or frame is exposed on the film. The camera is
operated at a speed of 24 frames per second. Opposite each
image made through the red filter a black stripe or mark appears
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274 Pictures in Natural Colors
in the perforated margin of the film, to serve as a guide at all
times; for with the position of the image thus indicated, the
laboratory staff, the operator of the projector, or anyone else
can immediately locate the "red" image of the negative or posi-
tive, or any other image, for that matter, since the order of the
various "colors" is always the same. The black stripe or mark
is made in the camera by allowing a ray of light to pass through
a small tube mounted on the lens board, at the moment when the
"red" image is being recorded.
The positives are printed in the usual manner, and although the
finished film is in black and white and does not materially differ
from ordinary film, it nevertheless carries latent color values,
just as does other similar film. Some strips of positive film indi-
cate the color separation to a greater degree than others, depend-
ing on the subject, so that adjacent images may often be of
somewhat different densities.
At this point the question naturally is asked: By what magic
is this monochrome, lifeless film translated into living, colored
photography ?
The process of reproducing the original is simple when once
explained. A color wheel composed of colors similar to those
used in taking the pictures, is geared to the projector. For cer-
tain reasons, however, the selection and arrangement of the colors
differ slightly in the projector and the camera. The projector
makes use of a six-segment color wheel or color screen shutter,
three segments being in graded shades of red and three in blue.
It will be noted, further, that each image on the film remains in
position long enough to be projected on the screen with three
shades of red or blue, as the case may be. The red and orange
images are projected with light passed through three red seg-
ments, and the blue and blue-green images with light passed
through the three blue segments. The speed of projection is 24
images or "frames" per second, and the persistency of vision is
depended upon for the full color effect.
The concern which introduced this system has lately developed
a modified one, in which the film is tinted red on one side and
green on the other, so as to eliminate the special attachment.
After all, that film is best which can be shown on any standard
machine without attachments or additional experience on the
STANDARD MOTION-PICTURE PROJECTOR EQUIPPED WITH COLOR-WHEEL
ATTACHMENT SHOWN IN LOWER VIEW
276 Pictures in Natural Colors
part of the operator. The former system of this concern has
been described only to explain how apparently black-and-white
film can be converted into colors on the screen.
For scenic films and industrial films and educational films,
the color film has no doubt a large and useful application. When
it comes to photoplays, however, its application at present must
necessarily be slow. Millions of dollars are invested in equip-
ment for black-and-white photoplays, and to throw away the
better part of all this for the production of color photoplays
would mean something like a complete revolution of the industry.
In fact, directors and producers have pointed out time and again
the difficulty of producing pictures in color. New technicalities
are immediately met with when color photoplays are attempted:
color schemes must be watched; backgrounds have to be ar-
tistically painted; actor makeup must be revolutionized; lighting
schemes have to be changed; camera difficulties multiply, and
so on.
The truth of the matter is that color photoplays are being
sidestepped by the leading producers. They admit that color
photoplays are better than black-and-white; but why borrow a
big bag of unknown troubles when the public appears so well
satisfied with the present films? they ask.
CHAPTER XIV.
FILMING THE WORLD INVISIBLE
E PARTNERSHIP of microscope and motion-
picture camera has contributed no end of marvelous
subjects to the screen. Years ago the first microscopic
subjects were filmed at the Marey Institute in Paris that
institution which has contributed so much toward the
development of motion pictures and the broad field of
science. Since then similar pictures have been made in
various countries, particularly the United States of late.
Typical of this class of film is the work of the young Amerf-
can producer whose work is about to be described. His is
an unusually interesting work. He directs microscopic
players on a stage varying from 1-64 to y inch square!
And his players only have to "act natural;" for it is their
normal selves and mode of living in which the audience is
interested.
278 Filming the World Invisible
A DROP of water taken from a stagnant pond is rich in
motion-picture possibilities. To be sure, it does not
present extraordinary promise when viewed with the
naked eye, but under the critical gaze of the microscope a new
world is thrown open to the camera. For, with the drop of water
as the "location," and with the myriads of micro-organisms for
the cast, there are comedies and dramas and educational features
without end for the motion-picture screen.
For us the filming of micro-organisms is a novelty. Previous
to the war this class of motion-picture photography was practi-
cally a French and Italian monopoly; and from the splendidly
equipped laboratories of the French and Italian producers there
issued reel after reel of wonderful subjects depicting the activities
of the invisible world. The demand for such films in America
was inconsiderable then; certainly out of all proportion to the
expense and trouble involved ; hence our producers gave no further
thought to the micro-photoplay. But with the increasing interest
in popular scientific films conditions have changed. Indeed, we
have been obliged to undertake the task, difficult as it is; and
to-day the presentation of American-made micro-photoplays in
many of our theaters is ample evidence of our success.
DIRECTING AMOEBAE, RHIZOPODS AND THE LIKE
One would suppose that the micro-photoplay studio would be
located in the country, with Nature close at hand. As a matter
of fact, however, the majority of films of this kind are being made
in a glass-encased studio on the roof of a New York skyscraper,
far from any trace of Nature unless it be the sun and clouds above.
To this studio are brought the various samples of stagnant water
and insects and other subjects to be filmed. They arrive in small
vials, test tubes, large bottles and pill-boxes; in truth, the trans-
portation problem is so readily solved in the case of these little
performers that the studio can be located almost anywhere.
That is why it is found in the metropolitan district, where other
advantages are greatest.
The first qualification of the micro-photoplay director is that
he must be a born naturalist: he must not only be intensely inter-
ested in all forms of animal life, but must be intimately familiar
with the subject. Pie must be ingenious, too, for the filming of
al
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280 Filming the World Invisible
the little performers calls for no mean ability at times. He must
be a skilled photographer, for in the main the work is one of
photography. And, of course, he must know what is interesting
to the public and know how to tell a story in pictures so that
it will be entertaining and instructive.
All of these qualifications are possessed by a certain young man
of New York City, who is directing the micro-photoplays in the
skyscraper studio. Born and raised on the farm, a student of
natural history, a press photographer for many years, a maga-
zine correspondent, a motion-picture cameraman, this young man
happens to be the fortunate combination for such work. Most
important of all, his hobby is natural history.
For some time past our friend has been filming micro-organisms
for the lay audience. Starting with the simplest form of animal
life, namely, the amoeba or simple cell, he and his assistants, in
cooperation with the American Museum of Natural History,
have been progressing with a series of films which, when com-
pleted, will represent all stages of animal life. All indications at
present are that the work will require years, for it is perforce ex-
ceedingly slow and painstaking.
The day the author called on the micro-photoplay director he
happened to have three small aquaria on the laboratory table.
One of these contained water taken from the Bronx river, another
from a pond near Flushing, L. I., the third from a pool in the
woods near Tenafly, N. J. Beyond a doubt the last was the
pride of the laboratory; for, as he explained, he had walked five
miles along the Palisades the previous Sunday in search of this
particular fluid a slimy water, rich in animal life.
Plunging a glass tube into the Tenafly sample, he explored
some silt at the bottom until he evidently found what he was
after. Then placing a finger on the free end of the tube, he re-
moved it from the aquarium and released its contents on a micro-
scope slide. A moment later he was studying the same under a
microscope. Then he asked the author to examine a splendid
specimen of rotifer vulgaris, which at that moment was working
its paddle-like head so as to suck food into its mouth much after
the plan of a vacuum cleaner passing over a dusty carpet.
STRIPS OF FILM AND A SCENE FROM A MICROSCOPIC MOTION PICTURE
PRODUCED IN NEW YORK CITY
282 Filming the World Invisible
LIGHT ! CAMERA ! ACTION !
It is a long step from examining a specimen under the micro-
scope to making a motion picture of it. The mechanical diffi-
culties are many fold, though in principle one simply replaces the
reflecting mirror with a powerful source of artificial light, and
the human eye with the camera. In practice, however, the work
is carried out in this manner:
The director, after preparing the microscope slide in the usual
manner and placing it on the stage of the microscope, which is
then in position on the steel bench or photographic stand, adjusts
his instrument until the desired view is obtained. The slide, of
course, is provided with a cover glass so that it can be tilted to
any position. Then the microscope is turned horizontally, and its
eye-piece and reflecting mirror are removed. The former is re-
placed by a motion-picture camera the lens of which has been
removed, while the reflecting mirror is now represented by a pow-
erful lantern fitted with condensers, supplementary condensers
and special color filters.
For this interesting and unusual work a Moy camera is em-
ployed, which is provided with a peep-hole at the back through
which the image can be seen on the film, in greatly magnified
form. So by providing the camera with a light-proof hood or
cover it is possible for the camera operator to watch the subject
while the pictures are being made and to focus at any instant if
conditions are altered. What is more, by means of this method it
becomes possible to follow a performer about the slide by the
usual movements of the microscope stage, just as the outdoor
cameraman can follow a player about the scene by turning the
cranks of his tripod.
So sensitive are the animalcules that they can be left only for a
short period in the strong light necessary to photograph them. As
a general rule a film must be made in forty to fifty seconds, and
an extension of the period generally results in killing the little
performers. In one case, however, 200 feet of film was made at a
stretch, but this is exceptional. Obviously, this fact makes for
quick action once the actual filming is started; and our young
director is of the opinion that once he attempts to film still more
sensitive micro-organisms, it will be necessary to use a shutter
in the path of light so as to provide intervals of rest for the
*
ABOVE: THE ACTINOSPHERIUM DIGESTING WHITE WATER MITE. BOT-
TOM: ROTIFER VULGARIS. BOTH ARE ENLARGED 400 DIAMETERS
284 Filming the World Invisible
subjects. The French in some of their work, particularly films
showing blood corpuscles and disease germs, have made use of a
shutter operating in synchronism with the camera shutter, so
that the specimens have intervals of rest instead of being sub-
jected to continuous light and heat.
Special types of condensers of the liquid variety, making use of
different chemicals, have also proved a great help in bettering the
photographic conditions and increasing the longevity of the
micro-organisms by absorbing some of the heat of the light.
PRISON CELLS AND STRAIT-JACKETS FOR FRIVOLOUS PLAYERS
In justice to animalcules as a class be it said that they are usu-
ally willing enough to be filmed; for being slow of movement it
is a simple matter to keep them in the field of the camera. And
even if they should suddenly succumb to an attack of the wander-
lust, their movements can be readily followed by shifting the
stage of the microscope as already described, all the while watch-
ing the image through the peep-hole of the camera. But oc-
casionally the director is confronted with a frivolous performer
one that insists on scampering about in the most disconcerting
manner.
While it may be true that a drop of water is not a very large
area in the usual sense of the word, when the high power micro-
scope is applied to it the area is magnified until it corresponds
to a pond of respectable size as seen with the naked eye. So when
the animalcule decides to saunter off to parts unknown the search
is not unlike that of trying to locate a small fish in a large pond,
or the proverbial needle in the haystack.
Right here, however, is where the director's ingenuity comes
into action. For he provides for just such an occasion by keeping
on hand a number of thin aluminum strips in which he has
punched a square or round hole. By placing an aluminum strip
on a slide so as to box in the specimen, he effectively limits the
field of operations to the field of camera vision when the actual
filming takes place. No matter where the performer's fancy may
then take him, he is still within the range of the camera, securely
penned in by an aluminum fence.
Again there are times when the anatomy of a specimen is to be
filmed. In this case it is essential to have the specimen remain
THE VORTICELLA OR BELL ANIMALCULE EXTENDED AND THEN CON.
TRACTED AFTER BEING DISTURBED. 400 DIAMETERS
286 Filming the World Invisible
in one position. Some specimens are quite docile in this con-
nection, while others are not. The latter are soon tamed, how-
ever, by the resourceful director. He makes use of a special slide
which has two glasses a fixed bottom glass and an adjustable
top one. The latter is mounted in a threaded ring which screws
on a hollow stud, so that by turning the top glass it is brought
closer and closer to the bottom glass while maintaining at all
times the parallel arrangement. The obstreperous performer is
placed in this chamber of horrors, so to speak, and as in the fa-
miliar lithographs of by-gone melodramas the moving wall gradu-
ally closes in on him. But in this case the movement is stopped
when the specimen is slightly squeezed, there being no desire to
crush him.
In photographing mosquito larvae a little trough was con-
structed in which to place the specimens. This consisted merely
of the usual slide on which was cemented another sheet of glass
provided with a half-circle notch, and then another glass to cover
the notch. In this manner a pond-like section was provided for
the stage setting, and when filled, the mosquito larvae, swimming
about the water and coming up to the surface for air, were fol-
lowed by the adjustments on the microscope stage.
One of the micro-photoplay director's invariable habits is to
look after the welfare of his invisible performers. After a scene
is filmed he dismantles the stage or microscope slide and returns
the drop of water with its charges to the aquarium whence it was
originally drawn. Obviously, it would be simpler to shake the
drop of water on the floor or to wipe it off with a towel or hand-
kerchief. That would be the common procedure. But not so
with this director. Perhaps it is sentiment or perhaps it is
force of habit which moves him to return the micro-organisms to
their glass-bound world; but however that may be, the fact
stands that the performers, none the worse from their appearance
before the motion-picture camera, are kept alive and ready for
another call when this humane course is followed.
The micro-photoplay has a big field to draw upon, aside from
studies of animal life. In chemistry we may exhibit the forma-
tion of crystals and other marvels. Just as the French and
Italians have already done, it is possible to show various disease
germs and how they affect the human system. The circulation
Of
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288 Filming the World Invisible
of blood can be filmed as well as other micro-organisms which
enter into our lives. Surely, we have but scratched the surface.
Much can be expected in this latest field of American cinematog-
raphy in the no distant future.
CHAPTER XV.
PICTURES THAT TALK AND SING
f m ^jHE TALlClNG picture has always labored under an
i unlucky star. It was introduced to the public long
** before it had developed to full maturity in the
laboratory; crude makeshifts, incorporating the phono-
graph with its metallic and poorly articulated speech, and
the standard motion-picture film, were widely advertised
and exhibited in theatres to a curious public. The phono-
graph and pictures failed to work in harmony, in many
instances; consequently, the talking picture scored an
ignominious failure. The public, which always judges
by the first impression, became possessed of the idea that
talking pictures are a crude experiment, an interesting
but impractical scientific toy. But the talking picture, in
more recent forms, has vast possibilities. It is gathering
strength in the laboratory. When the proper time comes,
it will soon live down its unfortunate past.
290 Pictures That Talk and Sing
A CLEAR, stereoscopic, flickerless image on the screen, in
natural colors, accompanied by a true and convincing
reproduction of the sounds emitted by the subjects ap-
pearing before the eyes, the successive images and sound waves
being in perfect synchronism that, in brief, describes the even-
tual goal of cinematography. In other words, absolute realism is
the ideal; and everything that does not quite come up to the ideal
is but temporary and can only be considered as a milestone in the
steady progress of the art.
Inventors certainly cannot be accused of not having devoted
sufficient thought and energy and resources to the talking picture ;
for after the natural-color motion picture the coupling of the
phonograph with the motion picture has attracted significant
numbers of ingenious inventors in every leading country. And
why not? Given a more or less perfect means of reproducing
action on the screen and a more or less perfect means of repro-
ducing sounds, inventors have been encouraged to couple the two
into a successful and revolutionizing form of entertainment.
But the problem, simple as it seems at first, is a most difficult
and baffling one. For one thing, there is the question of develop-
ing suitable means of synchronizing the pictures and the sounds,
for it is quite obvious that they must be in perfect step, so to
speak. And even if the question is satisfactorily answered, the
greatly amplified sounds from the conventional phonograph,
which would be required to fill a large theater, are far from
realistic. Lastly, how is one going to secure a continuous sound
record for a film 1,000, 2,000 or even 5,000 feet long? In these
days of feature productions of five reels or more, with scene after
scene flashed on without a break or delay of any kind, there can
be no such thing as changing records. A "One Minute to Change
the Records" sign would not be tolerated.
SOME SCHEMES THAT HAVE BEEN TRIED
The simplest talking picture is obviously the combination of
a simple phonograph and a motion-picture projector. The phono-
graph, placed near the actors, registers the sounds while the
camera is recording the action. The difficulty of securing good
sound records is great, since in the usual phonographic recording
studio the singers are placed but a foot or so away from the sound
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292 Pictures That Talk and Sing
horn of the recorder. But in talking pictures the recorder would
perforce have to be placed many feet away so as not to interfere
with the pictures.
Again, there is the matter of synchronism, and therein lies the
main difference between the hundreds of schemes which have been
suggested from time to time in the past, with the phonograph
and motion picture for the basis. The picture and the sound
record must be kept in step, for otherwise the effect is ruined and
the entertainment soon becomes ludicrous. The writer has in
mind a talking picture produced some eight years ago. It was a
scene from Julius Caesar the quarrel scene, to be exact. One of
the characters suddenly sheathed his sword, and a few seconds
later came the commanding voice from the phonograph some-
where behind the screen, saying: "Sheathe thy sword, Brutus!"
The audience roared, of course.
At some time or other the film must have been torn and then
mended ; and in the latter operation several feet had been omitted.
But the sound record remained unaltered, for the reason that
there was no practical way of deleting a certain portion to corre-
spond with the deleted section of film. The result was the loss
of synchronism: the action got considerably ahead of the sound
record.
So it has been with many phonograph-projector schemes. One
of the reasons for their poor showing in the workaday world has
been the necessity of placing the phonograph close to the screen,
in order to have the sounds come from the front of the theater
where the pictures were being shown. The projector has been
placed at the rear of the theater, following the usual practice.
Now with the two components of the system separated by several
hundred feet, the difficulty of synchronizing them has been very
great. Elaborate timing arrangements, synchronized motors,
loud-speaking telephone circuits and other schemes have been
oried with poor results as a general thing; for even with fair
timing it has not been possible to take care of the break in the
film which, as is at once apparent, could not be compensated be-
cause it was not practicable to eliminate a corresponding portion
of the sound record. Jumping the sound record a bit in order
to keep up with the film has not always been feasible, and lagging
the film in order to have the sound record catch up with it has
GENERAL AND CLOSE-UP VIEW OF THE CAMERA USED IN MAKING
TALKING-PICTURE FILMS
294 Pictures That Talk and Sing
called for much skill on the part of the operator. And that is a
matter of introducing the human element- the questionable fac-
tor which is constantly being reduced in motion-picture practice
on a vast scale; and that feature alone has counted heavily
against such systems. Above all, the successful talking picture
will be fool-proof; nothing will be expected of the operator.
Aiming at the elimination of synchronizing separated com-
ponents, several schemes have been tried in which the sound
record and film are combined. One of these schemes makes the
film carry the sound record along one edge, side by side with the
pictures. A stylus travels in the groove on the film, so that the
matter of synchronism at least is solved. A similar scheme car-
ries the sound record along one edge of the film. But both these
systems have proved quite unsatisfactory from a phonographic
point of view, for the sounds thus reproduced are of poor quality
and rather weak in volume.
Talking-picture systems have come and gone, one after another.
Some have been brilliantly successful in the laboratory, under
the skilled and patient hand of the inventor ; but their commercial
life when at the mercy of the average picture operator has been
short indeed.
Still, the talking picture must come some day, and when it does
it may be largely based on the principles incorporated in a typical
system about to be described in some detail. This system, which
is a composite of many ideas suggested by numerous inventors
in the past, has been tried out in England and in France with fair
success. But complicated it is, and much remains in the way of
refinement before it can ever become a commercial success.
TRANSLATING SOUNDS INTO BLACK AND WHITE
The typical talking-picture system we have selected to illus-
trate the cine-phono possibilities replaces the usual phonograph
with a photographic method of recording sound; and a selenium
cell and telephone system act as the reproducer for translating
the photographic record back into sound waves. No stylus of
any kind is employed; in fact, there are no mechanical movements
employed in reproducing the sound other than the constant travel
of the film past the selenium cell. The sound waves can be repro-
duced with the utmost fidelity; and since they are placed on the
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same film as their corresponding images, the synchronism be-
tween the two is absolute and rigid. Furthermore, the sound
records can be made in any length, just as motion-picture films
can be made in practically any length by cementing separate
strips together.
In making a talking picture of a scene with this method, the
players are not obliged to talk into a horn, as is customary when
phonographs are employed. Sensitive microphones are distrib-
uted about the scene, either out of range of the camera or art-
fully camouflaged by a bouquet of flowers, under a lamp shade,
behind a picture frame, under a table, or in any other suitable
manner, to record the sounds ; and the players not being constantly
reminded by a huge horn that they are being "registered" for
utterances as well as for actions, retain greater freedom for their
work. Then, too, the actors are not limited to a small stage, as
must be the case when the usual phonographic recorder is em-
ployed.
The sound waves, impinging on the microphones, are trans-
ferred to a circuit which includes a storage battery and a highly
sensitive string-galvanometer. The string or wire of the galvano-
meter is suspended in the field of powerful electromagnets, and
the slightest fluctuations in the current passing through it causes
an immediate and considerable distortion. A beam of light from
a powerful arc lamp rigidly mounted at the rear of the camera
passes through the galvanometer and, in greatly magnified form,
throws a shadow of the wire on a steadily moving film behind
a narrow horizontal slit. The wire being so arranged that one
side of the exposed film is always in the shadow, the developed
film shows a straight edge and a series of "peaks" quite suggestive
of a profile map of a mountain range.
The camera for making talking pictures is of necessity much
larger and more complicated than the standard apparatus, for it
must record the pictures and the sound waves at the same time.
The front part of the camera is devoted to the usual camera
mechanism, while the rear includes the arc lamp and the galvano-
meter. The movement of the film through the camera mechanism
is intermittent, at the rate of 20 pictures per second, while through
the sound-recording member it is continuous, and for that reason
it is not feasible to reproduce the images and sound record exactly
EXPERIMENTAL PROJECTOR FOR TALKING PICTURES, AND A STRIP OF
TYPICAL FILM WITH SOUND RECORD
298 Pictures That Talk and Sing
opposite each other. As a matter of fact, the sound record is
some six inches ahead of the image it represents. This, however,
is not a disadvantage in practice, for even when splices are made
in the film the same amount of both pictures and sound record
are deleted so that the synchronism is not affected.
The galvanometer is the heart of the sound recorder, hence
much attention has been centered on this member. In the earlier
forms a single wire was employed, which made a record similar
to that shown in the accompanying strip of film. The upper part
of the wire passes through an oil bath, which dampens the move-
ments to the required degree. Means are provided for opening
the instrument and readily replacing the wire should any harm
befall it, and there is also provision for adjusting the wire to the
pitch best suited for the sound record to be made.
In a more recent form of galvanometer two wires are employed.
When current passes through these wires their usual parallel
arrangement is disturbed as they move away from each other
in direct proportion to the strength of the current. The resulting
sound record is a double row of "peaks," with the points facing
each other. Presently the advantages of the double row will be
discussed.
A MATERIAL THAT IS AFFECTED BY LIGHT
Given a film of varying intensity, or of constantly changing
proportions of opaque and transparent sections, one has but to
pass it continuously before a selenium cell in order to vary the
strength of the electric circuit in which is included some form of
telephone receiver. At least, so runs the theory; and in practice
it is about the same except that certain difficulties have to be met
and mastered. Selenium, it may be added, is a metal that pos-
sesses the rare characteristic of altering its electrical conductivity
according to the amount of light falling upon it. In various ways
the selenium material can be prepared into so-called selenium
cells, thereby becoming extremely sensitive to varying degrees
of light.
In projecting the talking pictures the film is first passed inter-
mittently through the usual motion-picture projector at the rate
of 20 images per second instead of the usual 16, and then in a
continuous movement through the sound reproducer. A powerful
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300 Pictures That Talk and Sing
source of light, preferably an arc lamp, is gathered into a narrow
beam and projected through the sound-bearing section of the film
and upon the selenium cell, thus throwing a shadow on the latter.
In the present apparatus a remarkably sensitive selenium cell is
used. It has a range of resistance of from 1,000 to 100,000 ohms,
and this characteristic has much to do with the faithful repro-
duction of the sounds. As the film is rapidly moved past the
selenium cell and the beam of light, the resistance of the electric
current passing through the selenium cell is altered in proportion
to the amount of light and shadow cast by the film.
With a single row of sound "peaks" it was found that only a
small portion of the selenium cell was called upon to do the work,
the other portion being always in the shadow. By using two rows,
however, a larger area of the selenium cell is utilized, making for
better results.
The remainder of the reproducing process is simple. A sensitive
telephonic relay is employed in circuit with the selenium cell and
battery, while a loud-speaking telephone with its own battery
is operated in the secondary circuit. Thus the sound record of the
film is converted into sound waves which are propagated through-
out a theater while the pictures are appearing on the screen.
That, in brief, is the basis of a practicable talking picture. It
may be that the principles involved will some day form the basis
of a commercial system; then again, inventors may hit upon a
new combination that may hold far more promise, thus causing
this one to be abandoned. But to-day, with what has already
gone before in the way of talking-picture systems, the typical
method described seems to be the nearest approach to the ideal
sought. At any rate, it may serve as a model for all who would
work on the talking picture.
CHAPTER XVI
CARTOONS THAT MOVE AND
SCULPTURE THAT LIVES
/T IS generally said that we as a people have little
patience; we seek the most profit from the minimum
effort in business undertakings. However that may
be in other industries and arts, it fails to hold true in the
mot ion-picture field. For no country in the world has gone
into the production of animated cartoons, sculpture and
dolls as have American film folk. Some firms specialize
exclusively in animated subjects, which require weeks
upon weeks of tedious and painstaking work to complete
a single reel. Yet, despite all the tedium involved in such
productions, the Americans lead the world in this category
of films, both in volume and in ideas.
302 Motion Pictures in the Home
TO prepare thousands of pen-and-ink cartoons, each a sepa-
rate and distinct drawing, and then photograph them one
at a time on a strip of motion-picture film, is the task
confronting the cartoonist who would amuse theater-goers by
animating his work. And this is only the mechanical part of his
newly found work; there remain numerous other details in the
making of animated cartoons which, together with those men-
tioned, make the undertaking anything but a sinecure. Perhaps
the film requires a month or more in the making ; yet on the screen
it may take less than a third of an hour to put the cartoon char-
acters through their pntics. But why the vast amount of work?
FIRST THE IDEA, THEN THE WORK
Somewhere in the downtown section of New York city is the
home of many miles of animated cartoons produced by a well-
known cartoonist whose work in the daily press alone is known
to hundreds of thousands of newspaper readers the world over.
Years ago he might have enjoyed the distinction of being alone in
his work; but to-day there are many other cartoonists working
for the screen. However that may be, the methods of this car-
toonist are so typical of those of his fraternity that they may
well serve for all.
Ideas are the big thing in any kind of cartoon work, we are told
by the New York cartoonist. Everything else is secondary a
means to an end, as it were. For, given a good idea, the remainder
of the work is little more than a matter of routine, with occasional
calls for ingenuity in the way of either reducing the work in-
volved when such is possible, or of securing unusual and clever
effects. So it is primarily a matter of getting a good idea, then
working out the story with its many details and situations, and
finally entering into the mechanical processes.
Because an animated cartoon film tells its story by means of
drawings, its production is a matter of preparing thousands of
drawings to carry out the creator's idea. The animation of a
picture calls for a large number of separate drawings, each a trifle
different from its predecessor so as to represent progressive ac-
tion; and it is in knowing just how different to make the suc-
cessive pictures that much skill and experience and ingenuity are
called upon. This, the all-important task, is entrusted to one
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304 Motion Pictures in the Home
who is the master artist; the other work is relegated to a large
staff of assistants.
The various backgrounds of an animated cartoon are drawn
but once wherever possible, for it would obviously involve a great
volume of unnecessary work if each drawing included its own
background. On the other hand the moving figures must each
be drawn over and over again in progressive positions, with each
successive drawing slightly different in order to convey the proper
illusion when flashed rapidly on the screen in the proper order
of sequence. The sheets, on which are drawn the animated ob-
jects, are used in conjunction with the different backgrounds so
as to make a complete cartoon. Sometimes the background is in
the form of a sheet of transparent celluloid, especially if the ani-
mated figures pass back of the objects pictured on the celluloid,
or keep in the center of the picture, free of the scenery. More
generally, however, the background is in the form of a border
covering certain parts of the sheet carrying the animated objects.
Often the latter is cut out more or less so that the figures can be
made to overlap portions of the background, so as to give the
appearance of passing in front of the background.
TRANSLATING ACTIONS INTO SUCCESSIVE DRAWINGS
Considerable artistic talent and knowledge of motion are requi-
sites in the proper and successful animation of a drawing, despite
the seeming simplicity of the cartoons when viewed on the screen.
The movements of the characters in an animated cartoon must be
convincing and at the proper speed. If a man is walking down a
street, for instance, the artist must know how many sketches are
necessary to have his character cover the distance at the proper
gait. If he uses too many sketches, the picture lags; if he uses
too few, the movements become very jerky and quite trying on
the eyes of the audience. It is therefore necessary for the master
artist to know how to make each drawing with relation to its
companion sketches; and his is the part of indicating the differ-
ence between one drawing and the next with a few bold strokes
of his pencil, leaving the detailed finishing of each drawing to
other members of the staff.
The master artist works on an easel consisting of a slanting
piece of frosted or ground glass held in a suitable frame and
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306 Motion Pictures in the Home
through which pass the rays of an electric lamp placed below it.
Thus it is possible for him to lay a clean piece of paper over the
last drawing and indicate on the former the new or progressive
lines for the animation. And by rapidly waving one end of the
new drawing while it is still in place over the preceding one, he
can tell at a glance the extent and correctness of the animation.
A considerable amount of thought must be devoted to the audi-
ence's understanding of the picture. The center of interest in a
cartoon must always be played up prominently by subduing
other features. For instance, if one of the characters throws a
missile, it is necessary that there be no further movement of his
arm after the missile begins to travel across the picture. The
character and every other character in the drawing, for that
matter must remain absolutely rigid so that the attention of
the audience will not be distracted from the missile which at that
moment is the center of interest. Then again, when a character
is made to speak by the introduction of what is known as a
"balloon" within which is hand lettering, there must be no motion
in the cartoon until the audience has had time to read the legend
which then disappears.
AGAIN THE MATTER OF PERFECT REGISTER
Perfect register is a vital consideration in the preparation of
animated cartoon drawings, because the tremendous magnifica-
tion of the films on the screen makes even the slightest lack of
register loom big. The pictures, thrown at the rate of sixteen per
second, jump about in the most disconcerting way, and eye-strain
results among the audience, if improperly registered.
So it is quite natural that the animated cartoonists should pay
strict attention to register. This they do by having the easels
and the photographing apparatus arranged always to maintain
the different sheets of paper in the same relative position. In
some instances the sheets are perforated with two or more holes
so as to engage with pins or pegs on the easels and on the photo-
graphing stand.
It is the preparation of the drawings that requires time. After
the master artist or animator has indicated the changes from one
drawing to the next, his assistants work out the drawings. Some-
times these are quite simple and can be done in a few minutes'
SIXTEEN "FRAMES" OR IMAGES OF ANIMATED CARTOON FILM, SHOWING
THE PROGRESSIVE CHANGES IN THE MOVING FIGURES
308 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
time, while at other times they are quite involved, calling for
special shading and even special tints or "wash." Especially is
the work tedious and time-consuming when several animated
figures appear in each drawing, and the process calls for a com-
plete drawing each time. While no set of figures could be offered
which would apply to all animated cartoonists, one of the men
engaged on the staff of the New York cartoonist in question turns
out on the average about one hundred feet of film per week, or
approximately sixteen hundred finished drawings. That, we are
told, is a fair average.
The photographing of animated cartoons is a simple matter,
so to speak. It is accomplished by using a motion-picture camera
mounted on a substantial wooden frame, with its lens pointing
straight downwards. A framing or registering device is placed
on the table directly below the camera, while on either side are
mercury-vapor lamps which supply the necessary illumination.
The camera is electrically-operated by pressing a push button at
the side of the photographer. By means of an electric motor
which is running all the while, and an electro-magnetic clutch,
each time the push button is pressed the camera is given one
complete turn on the trick movement, or enough to make one
exposure.
The photographer assembles the backgrounds and animated
drawings in their proper order, making successive pictures of them
on the strip of film by pressing the button once for each scene or
assembly. With a pile of drawings to be photographed to one
side of him and the background on the framing device before him,
he takes the drawings one after the other and places them in the
field of the camera lens, presses the button, places the used
drawing to one side and puts the next one in place, and so on.
The work progresses at a fair rate of speed and in a way is
strongly suggestive of the job press feeder, although necessarily
slower.
By the clever manipulation of a set of drawings it is sometimes
possible to avoid making a large number of drawings for convey-
ing a certain idea. For example, a long freight train moving
past one point may be represented by a locomotive and tender
and several freight cars, after which the same freight cars are
repeated over and over again until the desired length of train
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310 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
has been represented. Or if a figure is shown doing the same
thing for a few seconds, such as jigging or exercising or running
in a circle, it is only necessary to draw the complete action once,
after which the same set of drawings is used as often as neces-
sary. These measures or short cuts are rather fortunate, to be
sure; for they go far to reduce the amount of work involved in
producing a full reel of animated cartoons. Theoretically, a full
reel of one thousand feet should call for 16,000 separate draw-
ings; 'but because of the fact that certain drawings are used for
several "frames" in order to prolong a certain scene, and that cer-
tain sets of drawings can be employed several times as already
pointed out, the number of drawings is generally in the neighbor-
hood of 8,000. Titles, of course, also cut down the required
number of drawings.
It requires no little experience to plan a schedule for the camera-
man. Indeed, the man who compiles a list of exposures, telling
what drawings are to be used, how they are to be used, in what
order, and how many exposures of each who does the thinking
for the cameraman, in brief, is the real director of an animated
cartoon production.
With the negative once exposed, there remains little else to do
but to develop, edit, insert titles, assemble the negative, and then
run off as many positive prints as are required to meet the
demand.
SCREEN COMEDIES IN CLAY
Possessing every feature that goes to make a good comedy on
the screen, and having in addition a distinct touch of novelty, the
animated sculptures introduced some time ago have proved a
pleasant change from the usual run of film subjects. The appeal
is much along the same lines as the animated cartoon film; in
fact, the two can be considered as twin brothers.
The principle of the new films is precisely that of the animated
cartoons: the photographing of successive subjects or positions
of the same subject, each a trifle different from its predecessor
so that the proper animation will result when the strip of film is
projected on the screen. The photographs are made' one by one
and projected at the standard rate of sixteen per second. Due al-
lowance must be made for the rapidity of projection as compared
to the slowness of the photographing process.
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312 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
Like the production of animated cartoons, the making of ani-
mated sculpture films is something that cannot be undertaken
without some preparatory study. It requires many months' pre-
liminary work or experimentation before the actual start is made.
The skilled sculptor w r ho would have his work appear on the
screen must develop a certain screen technique ; like the animated
cartoonist he must make a special study of motion and learn how
to reproduce it in steps so as to put life into the little men and
women and other objects of clay, gauging and timing each move
correctly so as to obtain the proper screen results.
Judging from the experience of one producer of animated sculp-
ture films, the early efforts are usually bound to be discouraging.
In the case of this producer the clay figures went through their
antics so fast that the spectators could not follow them on the
screen. Then, after mastering this, the mechanical phase of the
work, this producer was confronted with the study of screen
action, or the story-telling phase. At first the stories or scenarios
called for several characters, each highly animated, appearing
in groups in many of the scenes. But this producer soon discov-
ered one of the fundamental principles of animated cartoons,
namely, the centering of the action so that the audience is not
confused. Before that there appeared a number of characters
in a single scene, each doing something or other so that the audi-
ence failed to be attracted to any one bit of action.
The successful animated sculpture film uses simple plots and
limits the main action or point of interest to one figure, although
this does not mean to say that only one character can be shown
at a time. Quite often a group of characters are introduced in a
single scene, but nearly always the main action is centered on
some one character while the remaining ones are rigid or only
slightly animated so as not to distract the audience.
PUTTING SCREEN LIFE INTO LUMPS OF CLAY
The work of the animated sculpture producer runs about as
follows:
First, the film story is worked up, much after the fashion of the
regular scenario, although of course the plot is simple and the
action is reduced to a minimum. Then the cast is assembled in the
form of the required number of clay characters. As far as pos-
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314 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
sible these figures are made entirely of modeling clay of different
shades, painted when necessary to make them more attractive.
Occasionally the little figures are dressed in real clothes and have
real hair. When the design is mechanically weak, the clay is
reinforced with wood or wire.
With the completion of the clay figures of the cast, the photo-
graphing process is entered into. The sculptor proceeds to alter
the poses of the figures in the scene, step by step, as the camera
records each change by a single image or more. The single-
picture or trick movement of a standard camera is employed,
as in the instance of animated cartoons. The Cooper-Hewitt
tubes that supply the necessary illumination are so placed as to
accentuate the high lights and shadows, bringing out the figures
in bold relief.
One would naturally suppose that the photographic process is
slow in this case, considering that the sculptor must alter the
pose of the little figures many times to produce a foot of film.
Yet we learn from one producer that 200 feet of finished film is
by no means an unusual day's work. To one who has mastered
the production of animated sculptures it is a simple matter to
give the required twist to the little figures, or a touch here and
there on their soft clay faces in order to alter the facial expres-
sion. Compared with the obvious ease with which this work is
carried on r the drawing of sixteen separate and finished pen-and-
ink sketches seems considerably more laborious.
Some productions require more time than others, as for ex-
ample a playette in which three chorus girls, a full orchestra, and
a "bald-headed row" took part. Here it was necessary to have
the three girls move in unison in their dances and to animate
the orchestra to a considerable degree, particularly the leader,
while the "bald-headed row" had to receive some if slight atten-
tion to add life and realism to the scene as a whole. Each picture
required as many as two dozen changes to secure the desired effect
on the screen.
But it must not be supposed that the animated sculptures are
simpler throughout than the animated cartoons. While the latter
can allow of crudeness in certain details of the action, such as the
simulation of walking, in the former the walking process and
other action must be somewhere near the real thing. That means
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much study ; and the producer may have to spend hours studying
how persons walk, how a cat looks when scared, how a dog looks
when barking, and so on with again as many or even more hours
in applying the acquired knowledge to clay figures.
TOYLAND IN THE FILMS
It seems probable that the stars of filmdom are going to have
some competition in the near future, and from a most unexpected
source. Their rivals will not be of flesh and blood, however, but
dolls; wonderful little people of wood and wax which under the
skillful guidance of their creator act with ease and grace. In
other words, a Chicago director has recently discovered how to
put the right sort of "move" into dolls, so that when their his-
trionic efforts are projected on the screen they have all the ap-
pearance of being alive and of acting of their own volition. This
director has recently finished a five-reel play in which his little
players have been given opportunity to perform almost every
"stunt" that falls to the lot of the real "movie" folk, and they
have acquitted themselves so creditably that it seems certain they
will score a distinct hit when the play is formally released for
exhibition.
This director's five-reel play represents the highly concentrated
efforts of himself and his assistants during a period of six months.
This will be better appreciated when it is understood that the
filming of even the simplest scenes which, when projected at
normal speed, may be run off in a few seconds, may require per-
haps an hour or more to pose the dolls and photograph the in-
dividual movements. This is the substance of the whole matter:
A doll is posed for the beginning of a movement, and the cam-
eraman, turning the crank of his machine once, makes a single
exposure. Then the director moves the doll a fraction of an inch
and another exposure is made, this process being repeated until
the action is completed. This means that an interval of several
seconds at least elapses between each exposure in the case of
difficult actions the time is longer and as even the simplest
action, such as the mere raising or lowering of an arm, is com-
posed of anywhere from ten to twenty separate movements, it
will be seen what a long drawn out job it is. Contrast this with
the filming of real actors. The latter go right along with their
f
ABOVE: GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS. BELOW: A SCENE
WHEREIN A FULL-SIZED ACTOR AND A DOLL TAKE PART
318 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
acting and the movement of the camera is continuous, so that an
action such as the one mentioned would be executed and photo-
graphed in a second or two. In the case of a doll it may take
from fifteen minutes to half an hour.
But simply moving the dolls about and photographing them is
not all of the job by any means. To produce natural movements
the director must know just how far to move them between each
exposure and how many times to do it to secure the effect desired.
This requires a vast amount of study and experimenting, as in
the case of the animated cartoons and sculpture. As a matter of
fact the director in question almost invariably goes through every
action to be performed by his dolls himself and counts the num-
ber of pictures it will take to complete that action. In addition,
he must observe the proper angle at which an arm, a leg, or a
head must be moved to make the entire action seem continuous
and true to life when it is projected on the screen. For this
reason this director uses only the finest jointed dolls, capable of
much flexibility, and even these he finds it necessary to have made
to order under his personal supervision.
That the work of posing dolls to act before the camera re-
quires infinite patience and care goes without saying. This direc-
tor experimented for several years before he felt qualified to
attempt a production worthy to offer the public. During this
time he turned out a number of short plays, which, however, were
not for general exhibition. Furthermore, his earlier efforts were
confined exclusively to dolls, whereas in his latest efforts he has
introduced living characters in some of the scenes. This means
that the difficult problem of synchronism had to be solved. That
is to say, while he could control the movements of his dolls well
enough, he had to figure out a way to make the human actor's
movements occur simultaneously and in proper tempo with those
of the dolls.
This he succeeded in doing in a most realistic manner. For
instance, he has a scene where the hero and heroine dolls have lost
their way in the country. We first see them climbing a six-foot
embankment to the road, while down the road comes a farmer
afoot. Reaching the road the dolls hail the farmer, who has
arrived opposite them, and ask the way home. To move the
dolls up to the embankment required 30 minutes, and while this
THE DIRECTOR AND HIS ASSISTANT MUST ANIMATE THE DOLLS BY
LITTLE PROGRESSIVE STEPS, BETWEEN FILM EXPOSURES
320 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
was going on the actor-farmer had so to regulate his speed that
he would cover the required distance in the same time. Of
course the scene had to be rehearsed several times for the benefit
of the actor- f nrmer, until the whole thing was mathematically
correct.
This brings out an advantage, and perhaps the only one, that
the director of the dolls enjoys over the director of real people.
The dolls do not have to be rehearsed, but are ready to go through
their paces the moment the director gives the word, and without
any preliminary training. Generally they do it, too, without the
slightest objection. The word " generally" is used advisedly, for,
startling as it may sound, the dolls occasionally seem af-
flicted with "temperament," just like a thousand-dollar-a-week
star. At any rate, they sometimes refuse to do what the scenario
calls for and then it is necessary to work up new business for
them. It may be the weather that affects their joints, or it may
be that same inexplicable thing which causes a fish line to become
hopelessly entangled; but the fact remains that they have their
fits of contrariness The only consolation is that under the cir-
cumstances the director may express his opinion freely without
any chance of a come-back from his actors. Furthermore, the
doll actors do not keep on collecting a large salary while out of
sorts, or at any other time, for that matter.
Our doll director always writes his own scenarios because they
must fit the peculiar requirements of this work, which are totally
different from those of ordinary photoplay production ; and no one
not familiar with this class of production could furnish a script
of a practical nature. The plays are not made with the idea of
catering to children in particular ; the bare fact that this director
makes dolls act like live people is enough to interest them, and
so he tries to make his subject matter appeal to the older mind,
thereby amusing both the young people and the grown-ups at the
same time.
To tell much of the tricks of this business would be to tell it all.
It may be said, however, that a great many pins and invisible
threads and wires are used. Then, of course, special scenery is
required. This director employs a corps of carpenters who do
nothing but build miniature stage settings and properties, many
of which are quite as elaborate in detail as those employed in
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322 Cartoons That Move and Sculpture That Lives
productions featuring real people. The question of costumes is
also an important one and so, like almost everything else, they
are designed and manufactured under this director's personal
supervision. It may be stated that they cost quite a bit of money,
too. The latest achievement of this director is to give expression
to his dolls. He has worked out a scheme whereby they are made
to smile, frown, pout, wink and exhibit various other emotions.
But just how this is done is a secret which rests with the director
alone.
This business of directing dolls is one which tends to try one's
patience. Yet when the pictures are projected on the screen,
and the work of hours flits by in as many seconds, the startling
results more than make up for the labor and skill involved in the
production.
CHAPTER XVII.
MOTION PICTURES IN STRANGE
FIELDS
LOWLY but surely the motion picture is coming to
be looked upon as something aside from a means of
entertainment. Engineers have already discovered
the scientific value of the motion picture in making a
report. In the medical profession the motion picture is
being employed to demonstrate certain operations and
treatments. In schools and colleges the motion picture is
slowly making its way as an instructor. At the army train-
ing camp, the motion picture has proved an ideal drill
sergeant and lecturer; our boys of the National Army were
taught the operation of the Lewis and Browning machine
guns and the Stokes mortar and the hand grenade, long
before they became personally acquainted with these
death-dealing devices. As a lecturer and instructor, the
motion picture is rapidly gaining ground.
Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
HISTORY is repeating itself in the motion-picture world.
The principle of motion-picture photography was first
resorted to in the scientific study of motion. In order
to decide an argument regarding the locomotion of race horses,
Edward Muy bridge, an Englishman, arranged to take a series of
photographs of a moving horse. For this purpose he set up
twenty-four cameras, using wet collodian plates, at the Sacra-
mento, Calif., race track. Each camera was actuated by a fine
thread attached to its shutter and extending across the race
track, so that the horse would break it and release the shutter
when well within the range of the camera. The result, after due
experimentation, was a series of plates showing the progressive
actions in the locomotion of a horse. Thus Muybridge solved a
much mooted question and incidentally laid the foundation for
the motion picture.
And to-day, almost a half century later, the motion picture
is again entering the field of science, while still retaining its
enviable position in the world of entertainment. There are
scientists in many countries who are now following in the foot-
steps of Dr. E. J. Marey of France, who took up the work of
Muybridge and established the Marey Institute at Paris, which
has come to be known as the cradle of cinematography. Marey
did away with the battery of cameras employed by Muybridge,
and introduced the present system of a single camera and a
movable negative. His first camera was called the Marey Photo-
graphic Gun, and made its debut in 1882. Marey foresaw the
endless scientific possibilities of cinematography; and from the
Marey Institute in France there have issued wonderful films
without end. That institution has been equipped with every form
of apparatus and facility for carrying on the work ; and the fore-
most scientists of the world have become members of the In-
stitute.
X-RAY MOTION PICTURES
Among the many interesting researches of the Marey Institute
have been the X-ray motion pictures produced by M. J. Carvallo,
making it possible to record the functioning of the human organs.
That the problem was not an easy one is evinced by the fact that
many investigators had attempted it before without success. A
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326 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
special camera had to be constructed, in order that exposures
might be varied from every 20 seconds to one per hour, according
to the character and the subject under investigation. His camera
was driven by an electric motor, and operated automatically
after it was once set.
Finding the standard film unsuited to the requirements, M.
Carvallo made use of a special film with a more sensitive emulsion
than was available at that time, about eight years ago. In this
manner he obtained the most interesting films, such as those
depicting the digestive process in a frog, a mouse, a chicken, a
dog, and so on. The subjects were fed with either a peculiar
paste, or the usual food combined with basic bismuth nitrate, thus
rendering the digestive organs opaque and delineating them
clearly on the film. These films were copied on to standard film
for the entertainment of motion-picture audiences throughout
the world.
TAKING PICTURES BY MEANS OF ELECTRIC SPARKS
Another investigator at the Marey Institute, M. Lucien Bull,
has conducted a most interesting series of experiments on the
movements of insects, particularly while in flight. By taking a
vast number of exposures in a very short space of time, and then
projecting these exposures at the usual speed, M. Bull has made
it possible to analyze in detail the flight of any insect, such as
the dragon fly, for instance.
For his purpose this investigator required a camera that would
make more than 100 exposures per second. At the time no me-
chanical device could actuate a shutter and the film at that speed
without injuring the film; and so M. Bull set to work on a new
principle of cinetnatography, namely, electric spark cinematog-
raphy. By means of an induction coil and a regular oscillating
circuit, comprising a condenser and a spark gap, he obtained
intensely luminous sparks at uniform intervals and as rapidly
as desired. In order to have the sparks keep in step with the ex-
posures, since no shutter was employed, he made use of a com-
mutator arrangement on the same shaft as the film. Thus as
the commutator bars came into line with a pair of brushes, the
induction coil primary circuit was closed and a spark resulted
an instant later. The film, on the other hand, was mounted on
'At,
THIS X-RAY PICTURE SHOWS WHAT HAPPENS TO THE BONES
MILADY'S FOOT WHEN SHE INSISTS ON WEARING HIGH HEELS
OF
328 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
the rim of a wheel which turned in a light-proof box. The il-
lumination emitted by the spark passed through the specimen
and through the lens and on to the film being turned on the rim
of the wheel.
The band of film employed by M. Bull was sufficiently long to
accommodate 54 pictures during one revolution of the wheel.
Because of the total absence of intermittent movements and com-
plicated mechanisms, this arrangement permitted exposures to be
made at a remarkably high rate of speed.
The spark gap is composed of two pointed magnesium elec-
trodes, less than 1/12-inch in thickness, while the spark is 1/25-
inch long. The spark is very rich in the ultra-violet rays, which
possess the proper actinic or photographic qualities. Naturally,
the images on the film are in the form of silhouettes.
If the problem of making the exposures has been a difficult
one, that of handling the insect has been at least equally difficult.
With a system of photography such as this one, where the images
are all made within a fraction of a second, it has been found
necessary to start filming just as the insect starts on his winged
journey. It has also been necessary to have the insect fly across
the field of the lens, which is generally done by placing the ap-
paratus near a window, because insects instinctively fly towards a
light.
M. Bull set to work devising a mechanism which would open
the simple shutter of his camera the moment the fly came into the
field of the lens. The first mechanism comprised a pair of pincers
for holding a house-fly or dragon-fly captive until the desired
moment, when it could be released by actuating an electro-mag-
net. Another mechanism consisted of a glass tube sealed at one
end and open at the other. The open end was cut on the slant,
so as to provide a sloping exit. The exit was half blocked by a
light piece of mica, attached to a light spring on top of the tube.
As the insect is emerging from the tube, with the mica flap on his
back, the camera operator closes the switch and has everything
in readiness. Then, as the insect is free of the flap, the latter
drops down and closes the circuit which causes the camera shutter
to open and the images to be recorded. A third device consisted
of a tiny spring board, so to speak, pivoted at the center and car-
rying at one end a contact point. Normally, the aluminum board
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330 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
rests its inner end on an adjustable contact screw, so that the
contacts are together. But as the insect in the glass tube walks
out along the aluminum board, the weight is shifted to the other
half of the board which then presses down on that side. At
this point the camera operator closes the switch and has every-
thing in readiness for the exposure. Then, just as the insect
clears the tube and starts off on his flight, the aluminum board,
being heavier on the contact side, goes down on that side and
closes the circuit which actuates the shutter.
THE FLIGHT OF A BULLET
The work of M. Bull extends as far back as 1904. Since then
there have been numerous investigators at work on similar films.
Dr. C. Cranz, an eminent German scientist, some years ago
worked out a system whereby 500 consecutive pictures can be
taken in 1/10 second, the exposures varying from 1/1,000,000
to 1/10,000,000 part of a second. Dr. Cranz has followed the
same general method as M. Bull, employing an electric spark
for his illumination. In this instance the sensitized band runs
over two steel cylinders. Over 280 feet of film must pass by
the exposure aperture in the short space of one second. Special
provision is made so that the film will not receive more than one
series of pictures.
Dr. Cranz has produced divers films showing the flight of bul-
lets. One of these shows the firing of an automatic pistol, from
the time the bullet emerges from the muzzle until the smoke of
the powder charge pours out. Similarly, he has made films de-
picting the passage of a bullet through a steel plate. By means
of certain facilities to measure the vertical and horizontal speed
of the missile, it becomes possible to employ such films for
ordnance investigations. In fact, the British government set up
such an installation many years ago for the study of bullets in
flight. No doubt, numerous governments and ordnance factories
are now provided with similar apparatus for studying what hap-
pens when one attempts to stop a modern bullet.
ANALYZING THE GAME OF BASEBALL AND OTHER THINGS
There is no limit to the application of speed motion pictures.
Not long ago a well-known American film producer made use of
THESE FILM IMAGES OF BASEBALL PLAYERS HAVE BEEN MADE AT THE
RATE OF 128 "FRAMES" PER SECOND
332 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
its new type of camera for a pictorial analysis of baseball, The
new motion-study camera takes 128 pictures a second, and the
films are projected at the standard rate of 16 per second. At
this rate it requires eight seconds to project 128 pictures used
for the analysis. Consequently, the action is slowed down eight
times the normal speed.
Applied to baseball, these motion pictures depict the art of
any well-known pitcher or batter. A swing of the arm, the hold,
the release of the ball, and the passage of the ball through the
air can be plainly discerned and studied. As the ball leaves the
pitcher's hand it travels, or, to use a more appropriate term,
floats through the air. When the ball comes in contact with the
bat, the rebound action is clearly shown.
The same general principle has been applied in efficiency engi-
neering with telling results. Efficiency engineers have been able
to study all kinds of action, and it is the study of such pictorial
records that has made possible the simplifying and improving of
many methods and processes. Such pictorial records have often
been coupled with chronometers, appearing in each image so as
to indicate the lapse of time. As a means of studying motion,
nothing can equal the cinematograph ; and the same bit of action
can be reviewed over and over again, at any speed.
SHOOTING AT MOTION PICTURES
At amusement resorts and in the army camps motion pictures
are employed for training as well as for entertaining the men.
Suitable motion-picture films have enabled the armies to train
soldiers for sentry duty, so "that the experience of coming face to
face with an enemy soldier is pretty closely duplicated for the
benefit of the "rookie. 7 ' On the screen in front of him, the new
soldier is suddenly confronted by a suspicious form emerging
from a natural cover. He has to go through the regular pro-
cedure of calling upon the stranger to halt, ask for the pass word,
give the order to advance so many paces, and so on, while an
officer stands by and comments on the alacrity of the "rookie."
But the most valuable service of the motion picture in the
military camp has been in training future marksmen. The Brit-
ish army was the first to appreciate the value of motion pictures
for training its new army at the beginning of the great war.
ABOVE: COUNTER OF THE ANIMATED SHOOTING GALLERY. BELOW
SOME OF THE ELECTRICAL APPARATUS WHICH HELPS RECORD HITS
334 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
One system of target motion pictures recently invented by an
American, makes use of a steel plate about eight feet square and
painted white, for the screen. At the back of this plate a wooden
gridiron supports small iron balls hung on short pieces of chain
arranged so that the impact of the bullet on any point on the
steel screen will drive a ball away from the plate, causing the
chain to cross two rods, thus closing a break in an electric circuit.
Only the rods immediately behind the target are energized, so
that a hit will be electrically recorded if the bullet strikes the
target. Otherwise the apparatus shows a miss.
One of the accompanying illustrations shows the back of the
steel screen with the balls attached to it and the rods running
across it. The balls are three inches apart. The rods run hori-
zontally, but every other one is connected with a vertical wire.
We may liken the horizontal rods to parallels of latitude and the
vertical wires to meridians or lines ef longitude, by which any
spot on the screen may be fixed, just as on a map. Having de-
termined the latitude and longitude of the different points that
will be occupied by the target, it only remains to provide means
for energizing the vertical and horizontal lines crossing at these
points at the particular moment when they will be traversed by
the moving target. This is done by using sets of contact fingers
on each side of the film in the projection mechanism and cutting
perforations in the film through which various combinations of
fingers may make contact to close the circuit of the corresponding
parallels and meridians of the screen.
There are nine fingers on one side to control the parallels and
nine fingers on the other to control the meridians. These fingers
operate in pairs of various combinations to close the circuit of
relays which in turn operate to energize the corresponding rods.
By using intermediate relays, nine fingers are enough to control
three or four times as many rods.
In preparing a film, it is thrown up by means of a weak light
upon a chart which shows the location of the wires and the balls
of the large target board. The operator looking at the projected
image of the first picture of the film sees by the chart what wires
must be connected to the current to sensitize the animal or other
moving target in the picture. Having determined its latitude and
longitude, so to speak, the edge of the film is correspondingly
a
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336 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
perforated with two holes on each side, then the next picture is
similarly treated, and so on until the entire tape has been per-
forated. Only a momentary impulse may pass through the
fingers because the film comes to rest for but an instant, and
then moves on, breaking the electrical contact through the per-
forations. Accordingly, a device is provided which automatically
keeps the rods energized until the next impulse is passed through
the fingers as they drop through the perforations of the succeed-
ing picture on the film.
The "vital" spot on the animal never passes out of the sensitive
area on the screen. It is not to be supposed that a bullet must
actually strike the steel curtain at the very point behind which
the ball is resting. There is no spot on the screen that is dead.
If a bullet should strike midway between two balls, both of them
would be thrown outward, making contact with their respective
rods. Thus between two successive positions of the animal or
subje.ct and through which by the illusion of the cinematograph
the subject appears to move, the screen is sensitive, and should a
bullet strike 'any intermediate spot, a hit would be recorded.
In other words, there is never a time when the illusion makes it
impossible to score a hit.
The hits and misses of each marksman are recorded by a series
of lamps located before and above him. The circuit to these
lamps is closed through his own gun. Electrical connections to
the different guns are made through a light flexible cord which
does not interfere in the least with the shooting. The contact is
made at the hammer when the gun is cocked, and broken when
the gun is fired. An electrically operated ratchet device steps a
brush from the terminal of one lamp to the terminal of the next
lamp circuit. A timing device is used to operate a circuit breaker.
Every rifle is connected to its own "stepper" and scoring lamp.
When the gun is fired, the timing device closes the circuit con-
necting the particular gun with the steel target contacts for a
fraction of a second. If the shot is a hit during this interval, an
impulse lights the lamp by throwing a switch. If the shot is a
miss, the timer cuts the connection after the proper interval and
the lamp stays dark. The gun cocked for the next shot steps the
brush to the next lamp, and so on. Any number of rifles can be
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338 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
used, for the interval required for an impulse to reach the lamp
of each gun is hardly appreciable.
THE SCREEN AS THE DRILL SERGEANT
Not only in the matter of training sharpshooters lias the motion
picture served armies in time of war. Our own Army, which had
to be raised in short order, has made good use of motion pictures
for the purpose of teaching military subjects in quick order.
Indeed, the authorities made use of the fact that we are a* nation
of "movie" fans; and the text-book was replaced in many training
camps by the more interesting and more effective motion-picture
studies.
For instance, in the matter of the two types of Browning
machine guns with which our Army has been equipped, the
doughboys were taught their action by means of elaborate ani-
mated drawings as well as photographs of the weapons in action.
Better still, they were introduced that is to say, pictorially, of
course to the inventor, John M. Browning, and then to his
remarkable weapons. Expert machine gunners were shown using
the Browning weapons, and -such pictures served just as effect-
ively as if these experts had come to every camp where the films
were shown. Best of all, a film subject can appear in one hun-
dred, two hundred, or any number of places at one time, providing
a sufficient number of positive prints are made. So that in the
case of our newly created Army, where speed was a paramount
essential, the pictorial demonstrations of certain experts were
available for many camps at the same time; and from a stand-
point of economy the film method of training more than made
good.
Three classes of motion-picture studies were employed by our
General Staff in training the draft Army. First of all were the
films employed for teaching squad movements, artillery in action,
cavalry maneuvers, and so on. In such films the experts used
for the various scenes wore cardboard signs bearing letters or
names so that their movements and duties could be plainly fol-
lowed. The second class comprised the motion-study or motion-
analysis films, in which the photographs are taken at a high
ral|e of speed, say 96 or more per second, and projected at the
standard rate so that any process, movement or action can be
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340 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
brought down to a slow speed which permits of careful study, as
already referred to in this chapter. The third class of films
dealt with the detailed explanation of any mechanism and its
functioning, such as rifle grenades, machine guns, recoil members
of guns, and so on.
MOTION PICTURES OP METAL STRESSES
The moving picture has entered a new field. When it was first
introduced, few, if any, would have imagined that it would be
applied microscopically that is, that moving microscopic images
would be taken and the revelation appear on the screen of what
takes place under a microscope. What is probably the first in-
stance of this class of film applied to engineering, was exhibited
at a recent convention of testing engineers at Atlantic City, N. J.
Wrought iron was used to try out the idea. It is known that
when a metal like wrought iron or steel is subjected to alternate
stresses or shocks, brought about by repeated bendings or blows,
the metal gradually deteriorates or weakens, and finally breaks,
sometimes with serious consequences. It is also known that all
such metal is made up of close-lying crystals and that such bend-
ing or blows distort those crystals, causing the ultimate weakness.
A moving reproduction has been taken and vividly projected
on the screen of the successive changes which take place in the
structure of crystals of such iron when subjected to alternate
bends or blows. The piece of iron was placed in a bending ma-
chine. The microscope was attached to cover the place or joint
where the iron was most affected, and a motion-picture camera
was attached to the microscope. As the piece of iron was bent
back and forth the effect in the breaking point was recorded
through the microscope and in the camera. About one three-
hundredths of a square inch of area of this iron was thus repro-
duced. The effect was remarkable, each minute change in the
structure and crystals being accurately reproduced until the piece
broke. The gradual progression or formation of the cracks or
weakening lines was distinctly visible.
Credit for this really wonderful accomplishment is due to a
professor in the University of Illinois. He has probably rendered
a distinct service and may have opened a broader field than he
now realizes. He has probably introduced a method of investiga-
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342 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
tion of far-reaching importance, both technically and practically.
It is believed that the new idea will be successfully applied to
steel, non-ferrous or copper metals and other alloys in the near
future. Besides explaining many interesting phenomena not now
fully understood, it may settle some controversies which otherwise
would remain open much longer. It may determine just how steel
as well as iron really deteriorates or weakens under stress,
whether through the crystal or in some other way. Such an
investigation might lead to a heat treatment prolonging the life of
certain steels and making them less liable to fatigue, as it is
called, or to gradual or sudden deterioration. The conclusion is
evident that such an accomplishment might assist in prolonging
the life of important members, cables and ropes for elevators, etc.,
conserving life as well as material thereby.
By its application it may ultimately be possible to tell, for
example, by the appearance of the surface under a microscope,
whether a material has passed 30 per cent of its effective life or
90 per cent thereof. If the characteristics are sufficiently pro-
nounced, which experience alone can tell, then it will be possible
to polish a section of a cable in use and examine it with a
microscope from time to time and thus determine whether that
section at least is nearly ready to fail or whether it shows no
indication of failure. These observations would be based on
previous motion pictures of the same material. The keynote of
the idea is that failure takes place gradually, beginning the mo-
ment a piece of metal is first put into use, and ending only when
that piece gives way entirely.
MOTION-PICTURE PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHY
Often a snapshot made with a one-dollar camera in the hands
of the amateur is superior to the handsome portrait of the leading
studio. It is superior because it is natural; for as perfect as the
photographic qualities of the studio product may be, it is gen-
erally artificial, so to speak. Especially is this true of children,
whose best portraits are none other than the snapshots made of
them while at play. And after all, the main purpose of a portrait
is to present the subject as we know him, and not as he distorts
himself before the studio camera to the tune of "Look pleasant,
please!" or " Watch the birdie!"
ABOVE: ANOTHER VIEW OF CAMERA, MICROSCOPE AND BENDING MA-
CHINE. BELOW: BENDING MACHINE, SHOWING COUNTER
344 Motion Pictures in Strange fields
To remove the artificial atmosphere, to eliminate "posing,"
and, in a word, to make portrait sittings a pleasure rather than
an ordeal, has been the object of quite a number of inventors,
both here and abroad. They have succeeded in evolving suitable
cameras which make it possible to take motion pictures on glass
plates. Any one of the images on the glass plates can be selected
for enlargement, or, if desired, the glass plates can be inserted in
a modified form of camera and projected as motion pictures.
In one form of motion-picture portrait photography, invented
by an American, the standard sized glass plates are held in plate
holders. By means of an intermittent movement the glass plate
is moved in steps from right to left past the lens to register the
first row of images, and then dropped down and moved from left
to right for the second, followed by another drop and a right to
left movement for the third row, and so on until the plate is en-
tirely exposed. The movement, which consists of an ingenious
arrangement of gears, chains, ratchets and dogs, is actuated by
a hand crank at the side of the camera. Numerous adjustments
of marked simplicity permit the photographer to arrange the
movement for any number of images from two to more than one
thousand on a 5 by 7 inch plate, or from a 3 l /2 by 5 inch image
to a pin-head image, with the same lens equipment, by means of
the adjustable framing slides of the aperture. Again, the images
may be made at any speed desired, ranging from eight to sixteen
per second. Or, if the photographer desires, the images may be
made one at a time by a single-picture movement.
Just behind the lens board of the new type of camera is a
compartment containing part of the plate-shifting mechanism,
as well as the revolving shutter. The latter is similar to those
employed in standard motion-picture cameras, being provided
with a single slot or opening of variable size so as to permit of
wide latitude of exposures which may be necessary in changing
from large images to microscopic ones. A lever, connecting with
the shutter, is arranged to be fastened at variable distances from
the center of the latter, so as to alter the rate at which the pic-
tures are made.
In the compartment at the rear of the camera is the frame
which carries the plate-holder. To load the camera, the plate
holder is inserted in the frame at the bottom of the compartment,
ABOVE: WROUGHT IRON BEFORE BEING STRESSED. BELOW: SAME
WROUGHT IRON SHEET AFTER 424 FLEXURES
346 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
as shown in one of the accompanying views, after which the slid-
ing door is closed and the plate-holder is raised to the upper
right-hand corner by means of the hooked rod protruding through
the top of the case. In being raised in this fashion, the plate-
holder leaves its front slide below it, so as to expose the negative,
but as the plate is shifted from one side to the other past the lens
and dropped down at the end of a row, the holder-slide again
regains its position so as to mask the plate completely by the time
the last image has been recorded. This feature, it will be noted,
makes the apparatus daylight-loading, and the operator can
employ one plate-holder after another during the rush of business
without undue loss of time for reloading.
A fast anastigmat lens of short focal length admits of its use
for practically the entire range of images, and focusing is facili-
tated by the employment of a small piece of ground glass that
can be shifted behind the lens aperture while the photographer
observes the focus through the opening at the rear of the camera.
When everything is in readiness, the focusing slot is closed and
the crank is turned. The subject can practically do as he pleases,
since the camera is recording every movement; and among the
dozens upon dozens of images recorded on the plate there are
bound to be several quite typical of the subject.
Now the negatives obtained in this manner offer many possi-
bilities to the photographer. First of all, of course, is the possi-
bility of making elaborate portraits of any standard size by the
enlarging process. By using a relatively slow plate with a mini-
mum of grain, the tiny images can be enlarged to perfect portraits
of fair size. The enlargements can be made singly or in groups,
and one photographer employing this camera has achieved no
little fame by making his enlargements on a long strip of cloth-
backed paper, containing many portraits of the same subject,
and called by him a "Yard of Smiles." Still another possibility is
the use of small contact prints for "stamps," which may be pasted
on letters or calendars or used in any other manner that the pur-
chaser may see fit. Contact prints of the entire plate offer
pleasing studies of the subject, and can be cut up into separate
pictures when desired. Again, the cut pictures can be assembled
into pads or books, which, when flipped before the eyes, present a
motion picture of the subject to the never-ending interest of
THREE VIEWS OF A PLATE CAMERA WHICH PERMITS OF MAKING MOTION
PICTURES FOR PORTRAIT PURPOSES
34S Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
parents and friends. Indeed, an animated portrait is by far the
best kind of a portrait, and becomes a priceless souvenir in later
years. Glass-plate positives printed from negatives obviously
can be projected in the camera or in a similar machine as motion
pictures.
An Italian inventor, after years of experimentation, has evolved
a similar form of apparatus for making motion-picture portraits.
In his camera, however, the dimensions of each image are limited
to one size, in the neighborhood of one-quarter inch square.
Thus several hundred images are recorded on the standard sized
plate employed.
The tiny images can be enlarged into beautiful portraits by
means of a simple enlarging lantern. In order to avoid grain
marks due to the great degree of enlargement, this inventor makes
use of silk bolting cloth in front of the paper receiving the en-
larged image. The silk cloth serves to eliminate the coarse grain
marks while leaving its fine and almost indiscernible weave on
the enlargement.
So the motion picture can serve as a means of obtaining beauti-
ful and life-like portraits, by means of the enlarging process
which has already been perfected to a high degree. In fact, many
amateur motion-picture cameramen make small enlargements
from their choicest strips of negatives, realizing the value of the
tiny % by 1 inch negatives for this purpose. And there are
to-day on the market cameras which take "still" pictures on
standard motion-picture film. On 50 feet of such film, it is pos-
sible to take 800 images, any one of which can be enlarged to a
clear 3y by 4*4 print.
THE MAP MAKER AND THE MOTION PICTURE
Ever since the great war proved the value of photographs
taken from airplanes, map makers have been interested in ap-
plying this form of winged photography to their work. For
military purposes, cameras have been developed in which motion
pictures are made at a slow rate of speed while the airplane is
flying over hostile territory. It may be that in the no distant
future these same cameras will be applied to the task of map
making. Already it is reported that airplanes have made flights
over "Darkest Africa," filming hundreds of miles of territory
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350 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
which still appears rather blank in our geographies and atlases.
Obviously, the motion picture has a fertile field to exploit in that
direction, along with its present application in presenting to us
the peoples of the farthest corners of the globe, which, after all,
is the most fascinating and therefore effective way of teaching
geography.
FILMING SCIENCE OR DRAMA AT THE OCEAN BOTTOM
It is not so many years ago that two young American brothers,
aided by their father, designed and constructed a submarine tube
which enabled them to make films at the bottom of the ocean. At
first they contented themselves with films of fish life and the
remarkable sea gardens in southern waters, but finally, they
turned to producing remarkable dramas of a brand new variety,
using the ocean floor for their theme and background.
The submarine tube employed by these brothers consists of a
large number of flexible sections, reinforced by steel bands, hang-
ing from a well in a barge and terminating at the lower end in a
steel chamber. The tube is flexible, of course, permitting it to
sway with the movement of the barge and the tides, so that it is
not subjected to great strains. The steel chamber below is round
with the exception of a horizontal funnel-shaped extension which
contains the huge glass window through which the subaqueous
scenery can be seen and photographed. Air is supplied through
the flexible tube. As many sections may be added as are neces-
sary to bring the steel chamber down to the desired depth.
The two brothers made their first essays at submarine photog-
raphy in Hampton Roads; but it was not very long before they
appreciated the difficulties of making good photographs in those
muddy and poorly illuminated waters. So they hied off to the
West Indies, where clear water and powerful sunlight awaited
them. Furthermore, they secured far more beautiful settings
and sea life for their submarine pictures in those tropical waters
than would ever be possible farther north.
The first submarine motion pictures were made by these two
brothers, and showed native boys diving for pennies tossed into
the water by tourists. By means of the submarine tube, it be-
came possible to show the dusky lads plunging below the surface,
searching about for the pennies on the crystal white sands below,
THERE IS NO TRICK TO THIS PICTURE. IT WAS MADE AT THE BOTTOM
OF THE OCEAN BY MEANS OF A SPECIAL SUBMARINE TUBE
352 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
and then coming up to the surface with the pennies in their
mouth. A short while later motion pictures were made of the
ocean bottom in the region of Watling's Island, where Columbus
touched on his journey to the New World. These motion pic-
tures were a revelation; for they brought to motion-picture audi-
ences strange sights from the bottom of the ocean, where until
that time it was practically impossible for us to penetrate. Thanks
to these films a submarine journey was depicted on the screen,
with the audience taken over range and valley, through plains
of sea weed and through forests of beautiful coral growths, with
hundreds and thousands of beautiful and strange denizens of the
deep coming into view as the scenes unrolled. One of the most
thrilling features of these submarine films was a fight between a
stalwart Bermudian native and a shark, the latter being attracted
into the field of the camera by the carcass of a horse suitably
arranged near the tube.
At depths not exceeding thirty feet and with a reflective white
bottom, it is unnecessary to employ artificial illumination. At
greater depths it is necessary to resort to artificial light in the
form of water-proof and heavily protected quartz-burner Cooper-
Hewitt lamps of great candle-power, which are lowered over the
desired scenery. With such powerful lamps it becomes possible
to photograph objects 75 feet or more away from the camera.
The possibilities of submarine photography appear to be with-
out limit. The Williamson tube, employed by these brothers, as
well as other effective devices, are now available for filming deep-
sea stuff. It has been predicted that in the near future we shall
have views of the great ships sunk during the world war, such as
the Lusitania. By means of electrically operated cameras and
powerful lamps, which can be operated from the surface, it should
be possible to take motion pictures at practically any depth, since
it is the human element that places a very definite limit on deep
diving.
FILMING MARINE LIFE ON TERRA FIRMA
It should not be taken for granted that all sea life is filmed at
the bottom of the ocean. In fact, some of the most remarkable
photographs of this kind had their inception in a number of huge
tanks built back of the home of a natural scientist and curator
of the New York Zoological Gardens.
SCENE FROM A THRILLING UNDERSEA PHOTOPLAY, PHOTOGRAPHED AT
A DEPTH OF THIRTY FEET
354 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
When the curator determined to make some marine motion-
picture studies which would thrillingly picture deep sea life, he
first made a series of experiments by the sea. Along the shore, it
was found possible, during the time of the brightest sunlight, to
photograph the sandy bottom at a moderate depth. This was
done with something like a huge megaphone. The end of the
contrivance was covered with glass. All sorts of strange life were
portrayed, but many and even more curious and interesting
forms were observed at a depth too great to be filmed by the
means at the disposal of this natural scientist. So he decided to
set up a marine jungle in his own laboratory.
To do this a number of enormous plate-glass tanks were built
and so constructed that the water could be heated to the tempera-
ture exactly necessary to some forms of marine life and chilled
to the point required by others. Sea water of a clarity found
some distance out at sea was brought to shore and carried in big
cans to the studio. In this water rare and curious specimens of
marine life were also transported.
Next a great quantity of rocks and marine plants was brought
to the laboratory. The idea of this was to arrange many kinds of
settings. To produce the pictures the curator had in mind,
the interiors of the big tanks were arranged with the same care as
a stage. In one scene the effect was produced of the sea jungles,
of waving growth in which roams the devil fish, and the caves
wherein these monsters lurk. Then there was material for rocky
labyrinths where the shy fish find shelter, sea prairies where the
crab legions congregate, and the walls of the reefs on which live
the beautiful corals, star fish, and sea urchins.
Special settings were also arranged for what the curator
declares to be one of the most remarkable creatures he ever cap-
tured. This is the smoking caterpillar, an animal that walks
about on the sea bottom, in upright positions, and appears to
throw out its chest with an air of pride while it smokes a ciga-
rette. To unbelievers it is explained that the "smoke" comes
from a white tube and is a lime secretion used to drive enemies
away.
When the tanks were finally completed, inhabited and their
settings satisfactorily arranged, the curator "shot" in them
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356 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
some very extraordinary dramas and comedies, as can well be
imagined.
In order to use the camera successfully in deep tanks of sea
water and follow the movements of the actors among rocks and
tangles of ocean growth, there is much to be done in the matter
of lighting. Then again, most of the particularly interesting
forms of deep-sea life prowl only at night. These nocturnal forms
were illuminated by huge arc lamps, giving a total of 40,000
candlepower. It was necessary to make the bottoms of some tanks
of glass so that beams of light could be projected among the rocks
from beneath. The water of the tanks is slowly filtered, being
constantly in moderate circulation and passing through screens
which catch accumulating particles that might cause it to be
hazy.
It was not long after filming his first marine subjects that the
curator discovered the delicate health of certain kinds of speci-
mens, which could not survive the short trip from the seashore
to his laboratory.
To get these last-mentioned specimens before his camera, this
scientist found it necessary to rig up a tank at the sea beach and
film the specimens immediately after removal from the water.
There were many troubles in doing this. The water in the tanks
rapidly heated from the glaring sun, but this difficulty was met
by having a supply of ice and a thermometer at hand. On some
days the wind made it impossible to keep the light shielding
screens in place, and sand particles in the air, together with salt
spray, caused trouble with the particularly delicate mechanism
of the close-up motion-picture camera. But by keeping everlast-
ingly at it the curator has succeeded in producing a large num-
ber of excellent films, depicting many varieties of marine life.
A POET OF THE SCREEN
It seems a wide step from cold science to passionate poetry,
yet motion pictures to-day combine the two on the same program
of almost any theater of the better class. There is at least one
film producer who is using the motion picture for scenic purposes,
coupled with wonderful poetical sentiments. This producer de-
picts a wanderer with his dog as sole companion, going out into
ABOVE: SOME OF THE LAMPS EMPLOYED FOR FILMING MARINE LIFE.
BELOW: TYPICAL SCENE MADE IN AN AQUARIUM
358 Motion Pictures in Strange Fields
the wilderness far from the haunts of civilization in order to get
in touch with Nature and with our Maker.
Such poetical films are quite inspiring, although it is a question
whether they are thoroughly appreciated. That the idea can be
extended is perfectly obvious ; and we may yet see a new field
for the poet who stands ready to co-operate with the producer-
artist who can obtain suitable pictures which lend themselves to
such treatment.
And for all that has been said regarding the many odd applica-
tions of the motion picture in this chapter and elsewhere, the
story is by no means complete and never will be complete. As
an entertainer, the motion picture has come to stay. As an
educator, it is just beginning to come into its own. As an aid to
the doctor, the surgeon, the engineer, the business man, and
others of a serious turn of mind, it is the greatest discovery of the
ages. For the time being, however, cinematography is still in its
infancy.
CHAPTER XVIII.
MOTION PICTURES IN THE HOME
AND BUSINESS
rWI HE HOME and the office are being invaded by the
I motion picture, just as the musical comedy and
opera and the orchestra and the military band have
already done through the agency of the modern phono-
graph. Truly, the phonograph has a wider appeal than
the motion picture as a home entertainer; but where the
former already exists there is a field for the latter. Inex-
pensive and thoroughly practical, motion-picture appara-
tus is at last finding its way into homes; and the day is al-
most here when every home will have its collection of family
and general films and. a compact projector alongside the
phonograph. In business the motion picture is a potent
means of publicity; there is no better way of placing one's
sales argument before a prospective buyer than through the
medium of the screen.
360 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
COMPARED with the motion picture, the conventional
snapshot is lamentably incomplete. It offers but a very
small impression of any given subject; indeed, it repre-
sents that subject during a brief instant only, let alone that it does
not show the action of the subject. In the case of individuals, the
snapshot impression may be entirely erroneous, for the reason
that a person is too often apt to "pose" for a photograph, assum-
ing an expression that is far removed from those generally asso-
ciated with that person.
But to make motion pictures of any given subject is to make
that subject literally live forever. The fidelity of the screen
reproduction is remarkably complete. Which means that the in-
teresting moments of childhood, the disports of a dog or other do-
mestic pet, the more important incidents of a journey, and other
phases of our lives can be recorded for the years to come. Ten,
twenty or thirty or more years later these incidents can be re-
created, as it were, not only for the amusement of the family but
friends, as well.
Aside from enabling the recording of interesting phases of our
lives, the motion picture has still another attraction. Deep down
in the heart of practically every film devotee there lurks a desire
to see himself in the films. For to be filmed is to be accorded that
rare privilege of seeing one's-self as others see one. In other
words, one can then "look himself over"! And concordant with
this clandestine interest in motion pictures, there is generally the
desire to produce photoplays like those in the theaters, perhaps
not so elaborate, to be sure, but photoplays nevertheless with
friends and relatives playing various roles.
What fun there is in amateur photoplay production! Sister
Blanche, who has written hundreds of scenarios and holds a
record for receiving every one of them back, can now write a
short scenario for Brother Tom who is to direct the amateur
photoplay; Aunt Clara., who has always longed to "get into the
'movies,'" can now realize her heart's desire; handsome chum
Fredie can now appear at his best before the camera; little Bill
around the corner can now show that he really is as comical as
Charlie Chaplin, and so on.
That the foregoing is by no means a fantastic suggestion is
obvious from the interest taken in amateur photoplays by our
362 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
society folk. For several years past the summer's program has
not been complete if it did not contemplate a photoplay with
various members of the smart set taking part. Generally, the
camera operator and the director have been professionals, al-
though in some instances they have been society folk like the
players, making the photoplay a pure amateur undertaking.
As often as not such films have been produced for a benefit of
some sort, and by comparison the amateur theatrical has faded
into insignificance.
So it is evident that there is a field for simple motion-picture
apparatus for the amateur. Just as the phonograph has brought
the music of the entire world into our homes, so must the amateur
cinematograph at no distant date bring motion pictures into our
midst. The ''library" of motion-picture subjects will include not
only well-known stories, views of foreign lands, novel manufac-
turing processes, side-splitting comedies, and news weeklies or
dailies, but also the photoplays of the family with an all-star
cast including everyone from the one-year old baby to seventy-
year old grandpa.
A MATTER OF DOLLARS AND CENTS
The home "movie" has been slow in coming, let us admit. But
the reasons for its tardy appearance are many fold. Most impor-
tant of all, however, has been the matter of cost. Motion pic-
tures of the standard type are recorded on long strips of film, and
film is an expensive material. The price of raw negative film
may be anywhere from 2 1 /^ cents to 3% cents per foot, to begin
with. After the film has been exposed, it must be developed,
thus adding another cent to the price per foot. There still re-
mains the print to be made from the negative. The positive print
costs either 4 or 5 cents per foot. So from the raw negative to
the finished positive the cost is anywhere from 7% to 9 l / 2 cents
per foot.
If a single foot of film were sufficient to record considerable
action, then the cost would be inconsiderable. But to record the
average bit of action it requires 20 feet or more which immedi-
ately brings up the price to a prohibitive point for the great
majority of interested persons.
It is this great cost of film that has held up the introduction
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364 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
of home "movies." Realizing this, many inventors have sought
to get around the drawback of expensive film; and some of the
schemes tried have included glass plates carrying hundreds of
images, small sized film, and paper or opaque films. Much has
been accomplished along this line; in fact, there are a number of
practical motion-picture systems now available for the average
home and it appears to be a matter of business handling rather
than practicability upon which the immediate future of home
cinematography depends.
Of course, there are certain advantages that go with the stand-
ard sized film. For one thing, the home motion-picture projector
handling standard film can be used for whatever films are avail-
able on the market; and there are always great numbers of old
films that can be picked up for next to nothing. Then again,
standard film, being of a fairly large size as compared to other
sizes, gives excellent screen results. And while it is true that
standard film is not, as a rule, non-inflammable, there are numer-
ous small projectors available in which the fire hazard is ma-
terially reduced. Still, fire underwriters object to the use of
inflammable film in homes, which means that a fire insurance
policy and such a projector do not go together.
The owner of a camera that takes standard motion-picture film
for his own amusement finds plenty of places where he can leave
his work to be developed and printed. Occasionally, when an
interesting subject of wide appeal is made in his camera, he can
offer it to any of the several motion-picture companies interested
in such subjects and realize a nice sum of money; whereas with
special film such a subject would have little if any market value.
But nevertheless, after all is taken into consideration, the
standard sized film does not meet the requirements as well as
the smaller films and plates and opaque films now being slowly
introduced. Standard film remains expensive and far beyond
the reach of the great majority, although there are numerous in-
expensive cameras and projectors made for amateur work using
such film. Some of the cameras sell for as low as $35.00, and
can be operated with the ease of a Kodak. The projectors sell
for as low as $60. In the more elaborate models there is a com-
pact, highly efficient machine the construction of which is largely
of aluminum. It is mounted on a metal-lined wooden cabinet
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366 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
which contains the reels, and only a small section of film is ex-
posed at any time to the fire hazard. The mechanism is motor
driven. As far as operation is concerned, this projector is ideal
in every way for home use. Its price, however, is somewhat over
$200.00, which makes it prohibitive in most instances.
Then there are numerous "suit-case" projectors available for
the home, schoolroom, church, or salesman on the road. These
projectors are made up in the form of substantial carrying cases
which contain the complete apparatus. When set up the case of
such a projector acts as the fireproof or asbestos booth for the
film and the mechanism, although the operator, of course, op-
erates the machine from without. In the hand-driven models
the crank comes through a hole in one side, while in the motor-
driven models practically everything is enclosed except the motor
switch and connecting cord.
Aside from the suit-case type, there are several other light-
weight projectors of the simplest design and lightest weight.
These projectors consist of an arc lamp or filament lamp, a plain
film shifting mechanism, a shutter which also acts as a flywheel,
two plain film reels, and a substantial iron base. The weight of
such a projector is in the neighborhood of 25 pounds. In order
to economize space, projectors of this general design are some-
times arranged so that the projected image is at right angles to
the beam of light from the lantern, a prism being employed to
bend the beam.
FROM SMALL TO STILL SMALLER PICTURES
Among those who have devoted some attention to the home
cinematograph problem is Thomas A. Edison, the famous in-
ventor. Several years ago he spent considerable time developing
a home projector with his characteristic thoroughness and skill.
The projector which he finally evolved can best be described as
a professional projector in miniature. Taking all that was best
in standard projectors, Edison reduced these factors and assem-
bled them into a diminutive but highly practical home projector.
To solve the high cost of film, Edison made use of a film of
slightly less width than the standard. Instead of one image
after another in a single row down the film, he arranged his
images in three longitudinal rows, with the perforations between
L.
THIS PROJECTOR, WHICH THROWS ITS PICTURES AT RIGHT ANGLES TO
ITS AXIS, HAS BEEN DESIGNED FOR SCHOOL USE '
368 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
the rows instead of near the edges, so that with 300 feet of film
he obtained about 16 minutes of continuous action, or the equiva-
lent of more than 900 feet of standard film. The operation with
this film consists of first sending it through the projector with
the first row in position, then sending it through backwards with
the second row in position, and finally sending it through again
as in the beginning, but with the third row in position.
Although each image measured but 3/16 inch or less in height
by *4 inch in width, while the screen image measured up to eight
by ten feet when desired, the pictures were fairly clear and well
illuminated. A baby arc working on lighting circuits through a
rheostat (for direct current) or transformer (for alternating cur-
rent) supplied the illumination. And while no shutter was em-
ployed in the tiny projector, the screen results were reasonably
free from flicker.
The films for Edison's home machine were printed from stand-
ard Edison films by means of a reduction printer. At the time
the projector was first introduced, the films were quite up-to-
date, representing the best work of the well-known players of the
Edison film organization. Travel, scientific, and industrial films
were also available in the rather complete Edison library.
Still, Edison did not provide a camera for use with the home
projector, and in that way he only satisfied one-half the demands
of home cinematography. And following a fire at the plant in
which the film manufacturing equipment was destroyed, the
enterprise was abandoned.
Edison has not been alone in his idea of reducing the size of
the film as a means of bringing the cost of home "movies" within
the reach of the multitude. One of the really successful home
"movies" has come from France, in the form of a simple, efficient
projector and a camera using film of lesser width than the stand-
ard. Like the Edison and most genuine home "movies," the film
in this case is of non-inflammable stock, making it absolutely safe
to handle and entirely within the requirements of the fire under-
writers.
In the earlier models of the French home "movies" referred
to, the cranking of the projector also operated a magneto which
supplied current to the incandescent lamp. More recently this
system has been Americanized to the extent of designing a ma-
<*! ML
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SAMPLE STRIP OF EDISON HOME KINETOSCOPE FILM WITH THREE ROWS
OF IMAGES COMPARED WITH STANDARD FILM
370 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
chine that is typically American in appearance. Instead of the
elaborate, if not ornamental, appearance of the French model,
the Americanized projector is extremely simple and compact and
constructed entirely of aluminum except where steel and iron
and brass are unavoidable. This new model is motor-driven,
and operates on any lighting circuit. The illumination is sup-
plied by a tiny incandescent lamp of the gas-filled, high-effi-
ciency class. A shutter and a special intermittent movement are
employed ; indeed, so quick working is the intermittent movement
of this machine that its percentage of brilliancy on the screen is
greater than that of any other projector, professional or other-
wise, so it is claimed. At any rate, the projected picture is abso-
lutely steady and flickerless.
Where electric current is not available, this projector can be
used together with a hand-driven generator on a suitable stand.
Outfits of this type have been employed by troops during active
service, far removed from electric supply and other conveniences.
A camera is also available in this French system of home
cinematography. As in the case of the projector, the very best
commercial practice is incorporated in the camera. In fact, this
camera is of the enclosed magazine type, with a high-speed lens,
rigid tripod, and excellent mechanism. Perfect pictures can be
made with it even by the amateur because above all its operation
is simple and readily grasped.
It cannot be denied that this French system, especially in
Americanized form, is the ideal home "movie." The owner of a
projector and camera can make his own films and project them
for his little circle of friends and relatives. Amateur photoplays
can be produced with this excellent equipment for club and
church entertainments and benefits. Furthermore, the agents for
this system maintain elaborate libraries of film throughout the
world, enabling subscribers to the service to obtain the best
dramas, comedies, scientific, travel, industrial, and other subjects.
Ideal that system is; to say otherwise would be to shun the
truth. Yet, the great drawback is the familiar one price. The
projector sells in the neighborhood of $250.00, the camera for
$175.00, and the films rent for several dollars a day for a fair
entertainment. As far as the multitude is concerned, the system
is beyond reach; but there can be no doubt that for persons of
SAFE HOME MOTION PICTURES: FILMING THE SUBJECT, AND THE
PROJECTOR WHICH IS APPROVED BY FIRE UNDERWRITERS
372 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
means it is absolutely ideal and the solution of the home cine-
matograph problem. That, in fact, is amply proved by the larger
numbers of projectors and cameras of this type in daily use.
BRINGING HOME "MOVIES" WITHIN THE REACH OF ALL
For the present, at least, it remains to be seen what success is
accorded a home cinematograph system that has been worked out
with the price question always foremost in the mind of the in-
ventor. Realizing that the public at large could not afford to pay
several hundred dollars for a projector and several more hundred
for a camera and then still face the high prices for the film, the
inventor in question has evolved a projector which sells for $60.00,
a camera for $40.00, a tripod for $5.00, and negative film for
$1.50 for a package of 50 feet.
The system is still comparatively new on the market, and the
attention of the public has not yet been attracted to the ad-
vantages of the equipment as it must be before this system be-
comes more universal. The practicability of projector and
camera has been proved beyond doubt, and the price of films is
certainly within the reach of the average phonograph owner who
pays $1.00 or more for an occasional record. It is simply a matter
of informing the public that a practical and inexpensive ap-
paratus is now available.
The camera of this American system is of metal, finished in a
durable black, and of the size of a small folding Kodak. The
lens is a special formula of a well-known lens maker, designed
to give great sharpness and detail on magnification. It is 32-mm.
fixed focus, thereby limiting the necessary knowledge and ex-
perience of "the operator to the ability to turn the crank while
looking at his subject through the direct- view finder on top of
the case. The film comes in handy containers or packages, that
fit directly into the camera. No dark-room work is necessary.
Each package, containing 50 feet of film, which is equivalent to
100 feet of standard film, or over two minutes of action, is ready
for instant use. When ready to place the film package in the
camera, a paper seal is broken, a small section of the film is
pulled out until a six-inch loop is obtained, whieh is twisted so
as to fit into the "throat" of the camera, the door is closed, and
the filming can proceed.
CAMERA, PROJECTOR, AND SAMPLE STRIP OF FILM OF A RECENTLY
INTRODUCED INEXPENSIVE SYSTEM OF MOTION PICTURES
374 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
The projector is also of all-metal construction, attractively fin-
ished like the camera. The film magazine, with a capacity oi'
200 feet of film some seven minutes of action becomes a per-
manent container for the film. When the magazine is full it can
be indexed and stored away just as one would index phonograph
records. In this manner a "library" of films is readily started.
The lamp of the projector is a specially designed Mazda, filled
with nitrogen, and gives a powerful light when operated on
ordinary house current. Passable moving pictures from 10 inches
to 9 feet wide, depending upon the distance thrown, can be pro-
jected. The projector will operate any distance from 10 to 25
feet. At 12 or 15 feet it projects a picture four feet in width with
fair clearness.
At the time of writing, this system is intended for anyone who
desires to produce his own films, be they of the baby, the latest
trip, an interesting machine, a parade, a sporting event, or an
amateur photoplay. Eventually it would seem that the organiza-
tion behind this system will be producing comedy and drama and
scientific and travel and other subjects, possibly copied from
standard film by means of a reduction printer. But for the time
being it is squarely up to the owner of a complete outfit to pro-
duce his own subjects.
In Europe the matter of home cinematography attracted con-
siderable attention, especially on the part of large camera manu-
facturers, prior to the outbreak of the great war. Typical of
many attempts to use small films was that of a German camera
manufacturer, who developed a pocket camera which could be
used also as a printing machine and as the projector. The film
employed in this apparatus was scarcely one-half inch wide,
making its cost comparatively small. The camera weighed but
little, and made use of the conventional tripod for "still" photog-
raphy. Because of the small size and short lengths of film, the
owner of such a combination camera-printer-projector was able
to do all his own work, thereby reducing the operating cost still
further. It must be admitted that up till the outbreak of the war,
this German equipment represented a very near approach to a
universal home "movie."
One American inventor has hit upon a scheme for utilizing the
standard film in this manner: He cuts standard film in half and
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376 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
uses but one row of perforations. His images are only half as
high as the standard. Thus he uses only a quarter as much film
as standard, thereby reducing the price greatly while avoiding
the trouble of special film and perforations. This scheme is
ingenious, to say the least.
USING PAPER INSTEAD OF FILM
By some it is still held that the ultimate cinematograph for
amateur use must be one in which film is replaced by some
cheaper carrier of the images. To this end some inventors have
worked out systems making use of paper instead of celluloid
films. Lately, an American inventor has introduced paper films
of the same size and perforation as standard film, which can be
used in a special type of reflecting projector, working on the
same general principle as the post-card projectors. To be sure,
paper film is much less expensive than celluloid, and its printing
can be done with standard motion-picture equipment. The pro-
jection of this opaque film is fair, and there is no difficulty in this
direction. Mechanically, the paper is made sufficiently heavy
to stand the wear and tear on the sprocket holes for some length
of time.
In this system, however, one must go back to standard celluloid
film in making the negatives from which the paper films are
printed. So if the owner of such a machine desires to produce
his own "movies," he must use a camera inexpensive or ex-
pensive, amateur or professional, small or large and standard
film. Obviously, the negative costs the same in this case as
would the negative for any standard projector; but the economy
takes place in the positive print on paper.
So far we have only dealt with films. There are some authori-
ties who persist that the home "movie" of the future will not use
film; instead, it will employ plates or printed sheets, with the
images running in horizontal cmd vertical rows. Long ago this
system of motion pictures was attempted in France with fair
success, and to-day one such system at least is available for use
in the home.
By an ingenious mechanical movement, a European inventor
now in America makes it possible for anyone to make motion
pictures on glass plates. The first row of images on the plate are
PROJECTOR EMPLOYED FOR PROJECTING THE SPLIT FILM SHOWN IN
THE PRECEDING ILLUSTRATION
378 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
made from one side to the other, and upon registering the last
image on the line the plate drops down a sufficient distance to
accommodate the second row, which is made in the opposite
direction. Reaching the last image of the row, the plate again
drops down and the third row is made. So back and forth, drop-
ping down one row each time, the images are registered on a single
plate. In a representative system of this kind a single glass plate
measuring approximately 5 by 7 inches, registers images at the
rate of 12 or more per second to the number equivalent to 75 feet
of standard film.
The camera of this system which now exists in the United
States, having been brought by its inventor from France, has top
and bottom magazines which handle a dozen plates at a time.
The operator merely has to crank the camera in the usual man-
ner, while the images are recorded on the first plate without loss
of time in shifting from one row to the next. Most important of
all, however, is the detachable metal piece on each glass plate,
which not only serves to guide the plate through the camera but
also causes it to engage the next plate which comes through the
camera mechanism without a halt. Thus the operator can use
his twelve plates at one time, registering images equivalent to
over 900 feet of standard film. The projector of this system
works on the same principle, and can show one plate after another
without a break.
The low cost of such a system is at once obvious. Glass plates,
5 by 7 inches, can be obtained for a few cents each. The average
amateur photographer can develop his own plates in the usual
manner; and if he cannot, any photographic studio can do the work
for a small fee. The negative once developed and finished, a posi-
tive is printed in a printing frame. This glass positive or "trans-
parency" can be used in the projector. Thus home "movies,"
in this case, are reduced to a simple matter of plate photography.
In every way this plate system of motion pictures appears to
solve the problem of home cinematography. One concern in New
York which has developed such a system, sells a camera for
$35.00 to $50.00, and the projector for about the same price.
Indeed, it seems that ultimately the two functions will be com-
bined in one machine, as is the case with several home "movie"
systems. Again, this concern has constructed printing machines
STRIPS OF INSTRUCTIONAL FILM PREPARED BY A MAGNETO MANUFAC-
TURER, DEPICTING THE CARE OF MOTORCYCLE IGNITION EQUIPMENT
380 Motion Pictures in the Home and Business
for printing positive plates from standard motion-picture film;
so that in time the owners of their projectors will be in a position
to buy or rent plates on standard subjects, well-known comedies
and dramas, and so on.
When it comes to cost, this system is undoubtedly the most
promising; for the positive plates can be produced for less than
25 cents and each plate represents as much action as 75 feet
of film. Of course, it is true that glass plates are not as handy as
unbreakable, compact film; but where cost is the paramount
consideration, this handicap seems more than offset. Still further
to reduce the cost of positives, the concern introducing this system
in the United States has of late experimented with gelatine sheets
carrying printed images, and the results appear to be quite
promising. By running such sheets through a regular printing
press, it may yet be possible to make weekly news films which
can be mailed to subscribers by regular mail, just as a periodical
is mailed to its readers every week or every month.
THE SCREEN REPLACES THE FAMILY ALBUM
Ultimately, the home "movie" must supplant the family and
snapshot album. Already there are available a number of sys-
tems to fit various pocketbooks, and it is now possible to record
any subject for future projection.
To say that the box camera and Kodak must eventually give
way to the amateur motion-picture camera, would not be strictly
true. There will always be a distinct field for the "still" picture:
all subjects do not lend themselves to motion pictures. For
instance, a landscape, a house, a sunset all these and other
subjects devoid of action do not require animated photography
for faithful reproduction. But the child at play, the athletic
event, a busy street scene, a public celebration all these and
others full of action require animated photography.
So at no distant date most homes will have their home "movie"
equipment as well as their box camera or Kodak. Perhaps the
former will in time become as common as the latter; but at any
rate, it has a definite field which cannot long be denied it.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE PRESENT STATUS OF THE
MOTION-PICTURE ART
T T T HERE docs the motion p icture stand today? Why
I/I/ has it made such deep inroads in the time-honored
field of the legitimate stage? Why is it that the
photoplay is so effective, despite the seeming handicap of
muteness? How does it succeed in overcoming the
absence of color? Why is it so artistic? Common
questions, these; and the author has endeavored to answer
one and all of them in the following chapter, with the aid
of some of the leading minds in the motion-picture in-
dustry. The present status of the motion picture speaks
volumes for the initiative of the men in the industry; for it
must be remembered that it is barely a decade ago that
motion pictures became a business. And more has been
accomplished than appears on the screen; for there are
numerous ideas which exist but which have not as yet
been introduced to the public.
382 The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art
WHEN gallery business of regular theaters began dropping
away several seasons ago, and the cause became at-
tributable to the comparatively new art of motion pic-
tures, experts were ready to explain their great attractiveness by
their extremely low price. The same good excuse did for falling
off of family patronage in the balcony. But it was difficult to
make it serve when the occupant of the orchestra chair showed
willingness to divide his interest between a spoken play and a
motion-picture show.
In this last-named circumstance, there was more than the
question of price; it meant that motion pictures were commenc-
ing to rank high as genuine entertainment in public estimation.
Since this became evident, pictures have made many strides.
So has the drama, for that matter; and thereby better plays have
reclaimed much of the gallery and balcony trade, and a greater
proportion of that of the orchestra. An uncomfortable fact has
come to light in this, however; and that is that, in so doing, the
reclamation has not lessened attendance at picture palaces.
Here is a grave situation. Persons in the theater may reason-
ably show apprehension if pictures, which make substantially the
same appeal as drama, are to command the same audiences. The
question becomes, Will audiences continue to divide their alle-
giance, or will they eventually make it a matter of choice?
In order to gain a fair perspective on this momentous problem,
it is imperative to examine quality as well as character of each
entertainment.
INSPIRATION AND TECHNICAL HANDLING
After all, "The Play's the Thing," whether in a motion picture
or on the stage; so that necessarily comes first. In either case,
the play involves essentially the same matters of inspiration
and technical handling. That is, speaking now of the play, apart
from its mounting, which, of course, has marked points of dif-
ference.
As to inspiration, for a long time the motion-picture drama had
been just a rehash of old stage plays, novels and short stories.
To-day, however, it is finding the bulk of its inspiration in its own
ranks. It has its own corps of dramatists, among whom at least
several are qualified to rank with the foremost dramatists of the
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speaking stage. The screen works of those dramatists have been
remarkable for their highly dramatic quality, their depth of feel-
ing and their psychological truth. Yet those dramatists, with all
their admirable qualities, are but the forerunners of a coming
school of photo-dramatists.
Actual construction of film plays the continuity, as they call
it will probably always rest with the director, because details
of treatment depend largely upon exigencies of the physical loca-
tion that may not be anticipated by the author. The modern
director is generally a person of taste and discernment, a truth
that may be conveniently demonstrated by the achievement of a
certain director the author has in mind. While giving infinite
attention to detail in directing a recent photoplay, this director,
knowing that the most imperative thing in drama as in life is the
present moment, made every bit of it contribute to progress of an
action that remains conspicuously an example or rare cinemato-
graphic intelligence.
In the world of the so-called regular theater, they will tell you
as an enduring truth that the skeleton of every great play is told
in pantomime. Pantomime is the staple of the pictures. The
axiom is amplified by the trained dramatist and the seasoned
actor, who declare that dialogue should be employed to advance
the actual plot only when it is impossible or impracticable to do
it with dumb show. The modern photoplay bridges such gaps
in precisely the same way, with its subtitle, a device that has come
to be quite as effective as the most polished dialogue, while it
has the supplemental merit of being "heard" in the remotest
part of the house.
When the complete appreciation of motion pictures comes to be
written, there will be an intensely interesting chapter about the
subtitle. It has grown, even in its logical and consistent place,
from a simple explanatory note, to a cleverly fitting link in the
given chain of events, presented with a decorative background
that conveys the force of the immediate situation in unmistakable
symbols as well as in preceding pantomime.
In pantomime, the screen has a tremendous advantage over the
stage in a device known as the "close-up." This, as its name
implies, is a method of enlarging a detail, such as a hand writing
a letter, so that it fills the screen and may be seen by everyone.
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There has been much discussion of the close-up, and some at-
tempts to abolish it, notably on the part of one director who
aimed to keep his figures of uniform size, diminishing them with
his perspectives but never permitting them to approach the
camera beyond a certain point. Nevertheless, the close-up re-
mains a remarkably effective peculiarity of screen photography.
The close-up has the power of compelling the spectator to act
with the picture, so to speak, bringing the object of his attention
so near that it fills his complete comprehension, spiritual as well
as mental, as it completely fills the zone of action on the screen.
THE PART OF MECHANICAL DEVELOPMENT
In his attempt to solve the problem of pictures and stage in
their relation to audiences, the dramatic expert states it this
way: "The public will never prefer an art that appeals to but
one sense, to one that appeals to both sight and hearing." To
this, the photoplay expert responds, "Appeal to the sense of sight
in pictures, is so infinitely superior to that of the regular drama,
that it amply compensates for lack of the spoken word, giving
potentialities to the photoplay that will, in total effect, make it
the equal of the drama."
Pass in review some of these potentialities. The great advan-
tage of pictures over the speaking stage is their facility of chang-
ing scene, whereby they may have a moving steamship, and a
panorama of any given country, or view of any other subject,
the scenes being separated by an interval too short to be compre-
hended.
The stage, we are told, is a three-dimensioned space; the figures
are rounded; the scene is plastic. The screen, on the other hand,
is a plane surface, without real perspectives. This objection to
the screen production has been triumphantly met of late by the
motion-picture engineers.
In the first place, the reason stage figures look rounded and
screen objects flat, is tnat the former are seen with two eyes, and
the latter with but the single viewpoint of the camera. The basis
of the new process, patents for which have been taken out by a
leading producing organization, was the old parlor stereoscope,
through which one could look at two apparently identical flat
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INTERIORS OF TWO TYPICAL EASTERN STUDIOS, SHOWING THE
ARRANGEMENT OF SCENERY AND LIGHTS
388 The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art
pictures and see them merged into one in which everything stood
out and rounded. After much experimentation, the stereoscopic
motion picture is an actuality; screen perspectives are no longer
flat. Indeed, they are more correct to the eye than those of the
stage. The stage has a back drop with a single perspective
painted upon it, this standing in violent contrast to tke double
perspective of the foreground. The new picture is a single film
and may be run in any standard machine without special at-
tachment.
The stage has color; the commercially successful pictures have
not. From time to time color-picture films have appeared on the
market, but owing to inherent faults and heavy expenses these
films never became a commercial success. Of late, however,
newer and simpler color-picture processes have begun to appear,
in which beautiful and accurate results are obtained at a cost
well within reach of the average exhibitor. Correct color at every
moment is something that the stage may approximate only in a
broad way ; on the other hand, if the film has this accuracy, it
becomes still another point of superiority.
When the stage wishes to present a highly poetic scene, it can
do little more in the way of psychological mounting than to bathe
it in diffused light and play it behind gauzes. A post-director of
the art staff of a large producing organization accomplishes this
with a diffusing lens for his camera. It softens hard outlines,
but yet paints a landscape, for instance, with full orthochromatic
value. This beautiful photographic effect made its debut un-
ostentatiously in a recent photoplay.
The screen has become a three-dimensioned space in another
sense. A spectator does not merely view the scene at a given
distance he enters it. He goes through doors; he ascends
staircases; he travels with the characters in their private cars,
their limousines, their railroad compartments or whatever their
means of locomotion may be.
Picture settings are built to-day so that they actually have
adjoining rooms. In a recent photoplay an entire first floor of a
New York mansion was duplicated on one of the great glass
stages in southern California, with everything complete, even to
the billiard room. In another recent photoplay one strolls with
the leading man through a long suite of magnificent compart-
I
ABOVE : SCENE WITH SHALLOW TANK, DEPICTING SINKING SHIP ON THE
FILM. BELOW: WOOD AND PLASTER "ROCKS"
390 The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art
ments in a royal palace. Surely this wonder, though of minor
importance, is denied the speaking stage.
ARTISTIC IMPROVEMENT
One may not speak of the manner in which pictures have been
overcoming their mechanical limitations without remarking the
way in which they are improving their advantages.
On the speaking stage the setting has served for too long a
time and for too great a variety of physical action, to be designed
as a fixed pictorial composition, which means balanced masses of
light and shade, and converging lines; characters have to move
about without making the effect displeasing. But in pictures,
there are brief flashes of connective scenes, in which no one moves
out of the fixed scheme. These may be built up for sheer pic-
torial beauty.
Will H. Bradley, art director of the Century Magazine, the
artist who has done so much for the poster in America, is devoting
much of his time to this phase of the pictures, accomplishing his
work in such a way that it harmonizes absolutely with the prac-
tical obligations of the director. He designates to those com-
panies that seek his expert advice, correct lighting of interiors,
artistic variations of chiaroscuro, and dramatic effect to be pro-
duced by psychological handling of color notes.
Scenery is no longer painted for the pictures in prevailing tones
of blue and brown, but in full, real-life values. Costumes are
quite as colorful. As a result, orthochromatic registry is correct.
One. rarely sees anachronisms in the pictures to-day. There is
a technical expert in each large studio who commands all impor-
tant archaeological references. It was an expert who provided the
accurate settings for the recent American film production of
"Macbeth." This was said to have been the truest production of
the famous play, from that standpoint, that has ever been made.
Lighting, largely due to some of the leading directors, who
introduced night motion-picture photography by means of pow-
erful flood-lights, has made great strides. Focusing overhead
lamps has made it possible to photograph a scene with correct
shadows from a table-lamp, for instance, the lamp itself not too
bright and the rest of the scene sufficiently illuminated. Large
shadows, instead of being abolished as formerly, are now en-
ABOVE: CAMERA USED FOR MAKING LARGE HORIZONTAL "FRAMES.
BELOW: RELATIVE SIZES OF STANDARD AND NEW IMAGES
392 The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art
couraged for their artistic effect. The effect of the baby spot-
light, in picking one particular character out of the scene, has
been secured by the use of a transparent iris, before the camera
lens, making one figure bright and the rest in the shadow.
The author has purposely avoided detailing the numerous ex-
periments being carried on to supplement the pictures with a
mechanical speaking voice, because these, while interesting, have
so far fallen short of satisfactory results from a commercial point
of view. The difficulty of absolute synchronization of phono-
graph and the running film, which breaks and is clipped from
time to time and in the mending cannot well be matched up
with the accompanying vocal record, is negligible when compared
with the difficulty of securing the human quality of voice. No
mechanical instrument yet made for the purpose has succeeded
in reproducing the overtones which lend quality to speech, and
the lack of which gives us, for example, that curious anomaly
known as the "telephone voice" as opposed to that of intimate
conversation away from the transmitter.
The really important observation to be made about voice is
that pictures seem to be developing to a point where voice, how-
ever natural, would be but a doubtful accessory. Unless all the
living sounds of a landscape tenanted by Nature alone, might be
incorporated in the "counterfeit presentment," there would be
gaps in a running action where the power of suggestion that now
makes itself hear the slamming gate when there is no sound but
the click of the projector, would be rudely interrupted by jarring
realism.
One might continue at great length to detail various innova-
tions flickerless devices, which do away with the brief region of
darkness between individual pictures in the reel ; the discovery of
cold light, and the resultant success of paper "film" which is
already available for special projectors of the reflecting variety;
frames of various colors and widths which may be placed about
a projected picture by means of an additional projector, and
which, by varying the colors, can carry a certain meaning to the
scene being presented in black-and-white for the sake of photo-
graphic clearness; and so on. But the few named here may suffice
as concrete instances of motion-picture advance on the technical
side. There can be no doubt that the screen has received the
NATURALISTS, WORKING WITH MICROSCOPE AND CAMERA, ARE BRING-
ING ALL THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD TO THE SCREEN
394 The Present Status of the Motion-Picture Art
best efforts of numerous inventors, and there seems no limit to
what may be achieved in mechanical improvement.
It is difficult to introduce startling or revolutionizing innova-
tions in motion-picture work. For instance, some time ago a
well-known film man attempted to introduce a larger sized image
in order to secure more pleasing proportions for the screen pic-
ture and to have a larger field to work in with large groups of
players. By using standard film horizontally instead of ver-
tically, and combining the space of two "frames" to make a
single "frame," he obtained images measuring 1 inch high by l 1 /^
inches wide, as compared with the standard image of % by 1
inch. His horizontally operated camera and a comparison be-
tween his "frame" and the standard appear on page 391. At
this writing his scheme has not been considered very favorably
for the reason that the advantages claimed do not begin to com-
pensate for the expenses involved in using special film and pro-
jectors. In other words, it is difficult indeed to upset the stand-
ardized state of the motion-picture industry.
But the real advance is along lines where the instances are
intangible the tilings academically called inspiration and photo-
play writing. These almost defy analysis at the same time that
they stir emotion to unexpected depths, and they share here no
more limitations than in drama.
When Charles Lamb long ago enunciated the everlasting doc-
trine that the power of drama lies in suggestion as opposed to
representation, he was anticipating the power of the cinemato-
graph as well. This is the guiding principle of the new motion
picture, freed of those mechanical limitations that once kept it
from being what it is soon to become a sister art of drama.
CHAPTER XX.
THE FUTURE OF THE MOTION
PICTURE
OUR FIFTH industry is the motion picture! One
by one it has overtaken and passed older industries
industries which have a more vital bearing on our
daily lives than the amusement which the motion picture
affords. Yet the screen art is in its infancy. It has
exploited only the field of amusement to any considerable
extent, and there still remain many other fields where it
has even greater chances of success. To predict what
developments may take place in this art is to fathom
something which seems to surpass understanding. But,
judging by what has gone by and by what is being done
today, the author has endeavored to prophesy some of the
developments which will no doubt mark the future of the
motion picture, as a fitting conclusion to this work.
396 The Future of the Motion Picture
CONSIDERING that the motion-picture art is only a trifle
over twenty years old, and that its career has been one of
the wonders of -modern enterprise, one hesitates to predict
what lies before it in years to come. Yet the progress in the
past has established a definite trend, and it seems only necessary
to project that trend in order to predict what may reasonably
be expected of the future.
COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY AND TALKING PICTURES
There can be no doubt that successful color photography will
soon become universal. Already there are several systems which
are entirely practical, and their wide exploitation appears rather
a matter of business organization than of inventive genius.
New problems are bound to arise with the introduction of nat-
ural-color photoplays. The comparative simplicity of the usual
black-and-white scenery and makeup and photography have long
caused the greatest directors of the screen art to look with dis-
favor on color photography. For with the introduction of nat-
ural-color films the director's troubles will be increased not a
little, to be sure. He will have to utilize realistic scenery ; color
schemes will have to be studied, and garments will have to har-
monize with backgrounds; and photographically numerous diffi-
culties will arise where to-day, with black-and-white film, a
subject is only considered in terms of high-lights and blacks.
Yet the public is the final judge. When once the public is
presented with entire photoplays produced in every color of Na-
ture, it will decide whether the additional expense and trouble
involved in producing such photoplays are really worth while.
If it decides in the affirmative, which it probably will, then
sooner or later the black-and-white photoplay will have become
a thing of the past.
The natural-color "movie" appears to be nearer realization
than the talking "movie." It may be a long time before the lat-
ter is introduced on a large and permanent scale. Years ago
certain French producers erected an elaborate theater in Paris in
which a practical system of cine-phono, or talking picture, was
exhibited. Entire operas were produced on the screen, with the
players acting and singing at the same time in the most realistic
fashion. It is said of this attempt that the cost proved too great ;
WESTERN AND EASTERN STUDIOS: ABOVE STAGE PLATFORM IN THE
OPEN. BELOW GLASS-ENCLOSED STUDIO UNDER CONSTRUCTION
398 The Future of the Motion Picture
and the public that final authority voted the results not worth
the price.
Still, that was years ago; it may be that in the very near future
a similar attempt will prove successful, financially and otherwise,
and that it will mark a new era in photoplay production. Cer-
tain photoplays will be of the talking picture variety, while others
will continue to be as they are now ; for there are many who claim
that the greatest appeal of the screen drama is the fact that it is
silent: it gives the audience a great opportunity to think and
sympathize and understand. Just as the stage art of pantomime
has always had its following, so must the silent photoplay always
hold its own. Such subjects as musical comedies and operas will
no doubt be produced in talking picture form; and the leading
"hits" of Broadway will some day be available in the smallest
town, with the entire cast coming to the picture theater in small
tin boxes voices, music, and all!
But talking pictures call for special and elaborate equipment
which every theater owner is none to anxious to install unless
compelled to do so by public demand. The color films, in some
of the present systems, can be exhibited either with standard
projectors or with projectors slightly modified by means of
special attachments. Any theater can show such films. But in
the instance of the cine-phono every system, so far, has proved
to be an expensive investment by way of exhibiting equipment,
and that alone has prevented its universal exploitation more than
the fact that much remains to be done by way of perfecting the
results. Again the public is the final judge; if the public de-
mands Broadway musical comedies on the screen of little towns
hundreds and thousands of miles away from the Gay White Way,
then the commercial success of talking pictures is assured.
Some authorities on motion pictures hold that all future films
will incorporate the feature of great depth or relief; that is to say,
the images will be stereoscopic as with the double-view cards and
holder which used to be on the parlor table of almost every home
a score or more years ago. When photographs are made in the
usual manner with a single lens they are considered flat. That
is to say, there is no idea of depth: figures in the foreground do
not stand out from the background as they would if viewed with
the naked eyes. The same effect can readily be studied by view-
DRESSING-ROOM BALCONIES OF AN EASTERN STUDIO, SO ARRANGED AS
TO MAKE SUITABLE PRISON BACKGROUND WHEN DESIRED
The Future of the Motion Picture
ing a pail with both eyes slightly above the level of the rim, a
short distance away, and then with one eye only. When both eyes
are used the farther side of the pail plainly shows as such,
whereas when one eye only is used the farther side appears to be
merely an upward extension of the front. That demonstrates the
stereoscopic effect.
Various schemes have been worked up in the past for producing
stereoscopic effects in motion pictures. Some of these have been
quite simple, while others have been too complicated and ex-
pensive really to warrant their employment now or in the future.
But when it is borne in mind that some photoplays are to-day
being exhibited in the best of metropolitan theaters, with seats
selling anywhere from 25 cents to $2.00, there seems to be no
reason why any effect, no matter what it may cost, should not
be introduced sooner or later if the public asks for it. And the
same applies to other improvements in film photography.
THE REAL MOTION-PICTURE THEATER
We have seen the motion picture from the time it was shown
in the museums and side shows at amusement resorts, to the so-
called nickelets and nickelodeons, and finally to the palatial
picture theaters of New York and other large cities. We have
seen the musical accompaniment to the screen drama start with
the piano handled by a $12-a-week musician, with the music for
all the world sounding like the ensemble of a poultry show or
the operatic efforts of a feline quartet on a backyard fence, to
the large and complete orchestras of the leading theaters and the
orchestra-like organs of the smaller houses.
The future certainly must mean more rather than less for the
motion-picture theater. More and more picture theaters of the
type of the Strand and Rivoli and Rialto of New York city wi\\
appear in every city of reasonable size. Pictures will continue to
appeal to the best class of audience, as they do now. It is not
so long ago that pictures were avoided or ignored by the better
class of society; but by steady improvement of the pictures and
the method of exhibiting them, the art has finally won over every
class of society from the poorest to the elite. To-day the picture
theater vies with the legitimate theater in the number of motor
cars strung out before it during a performance.
402 The Future oj the Motion Picture
The interior of the high-class picture theater is elaborate in
the extreme. The setting for the screen picture has been care-
fully studied, so as to harmonize with the subjects. Instead of
the blinding contrast between the bright screen and the inky
blackness of the theater, which formerly caused serious eye-
strain, the modern theater exhibits its pictures in semi-darkness
and even in pleasing colored lights.
Every feature film worthy of the name is generally accom-
panied by a special musical score. Indeed, leading producers
employ the services of a skilled composer to prepare special
musical scores which will aid, not hinder, the full understanding
of the action by the audience. Motion-picture trade papers gen-
erally offer suggestions to exhibitors regarding the musical ac-
companiment for current photoplays. All in all, the matter of
musical accompaniment has at last received its just share of
attention; and the presentation of any photoplay, in turn, has
been that much improved.
The ventilation of the picture theater is a matter that is more
and more coming to the front. For above all else, the audience
must be comfortable. There are numerous theaters to-day in
which the ventilation is poor. Signs of this condition are not
lacking: headaches, drowsiness, weakness all these and other
symptoms indicate the absence of fresh pure air. Such theaters
are injurious to one's health and are the very breeding places of
all sorts of contagion. Fortunately, these theaters are being
replaced one by one by modern structures in which the matter of
ventilation has been a foremost consideration.
It may be that the leading picture theaters of the future will
operate on definite schedules or have so many performances a
day, just as those theaters now showing super-feature films have
two or three performances a day with all the seats reserved.
But, on the other hand, it may be that the continuous perform-
ance feature which has been identified with motion pictures since
their inception, may in most cases remain as it exists to-day. If
so, and if seats are not reserved, then some system is bound to be
introduced sooner or later so that a definite check is kept on the
seats at the ticket office.
Some time ago a suggestion was made for keeping count of the
seats in a continuous-performance theater. An inventor sug-
TWO MORE EXAMPLES OF WESTERN OPEN-AIR STAGES WITH OVERHEAD
JJGHT DIFFUSERS FOR MODIFYING THE SUNLIGHT
404 The Future of the Motion Picture
gested the use of a sort of tell-tale board carrying one electric
light for every seat in the house, with the corresponding number
alongside. With the tell-tale board conspicuously displayed, it
would then be possible for the theater-goer to see at a glance the
empty seats in the house, the empty seats being indicated by
lighted bulbs, or vice versa, as the case might be. Although the
installation of such a system is bound to be very costly because
of the extensive wiring, let alone the equipment, it seems reason-
able to regard it as a feature of the elaborate theaters of the
future.
If the comfort of the audience is to be served, then it is also
reasonable to expect that the seating arrangement of the future
theater will be ideal in every respect. The screen will be in plain
view of everyone, and the distortion which is noticeable when
one views the pictures from one side will be eliminated by avoid-
ing side seats and boxes. And if these seats do exist, then cer-
tain optical systems will be devised, either in the form of special
binoculars or certain changes in the projecting mechanism, in
order to eliminate the annoying distortion.
While dealing with the matter of seats, it is well to consider
the matter of persons coming in while a picture is under way.
One of the most distracting features of present picture houses is
to be disturbed by persons who wish to reach seats somewhere
in the middle of a row, causing a dozen or more other persons to
stand or shift to let them pass. The future exhibitor will see to
it that his audience is not disturbed in this manner. It has been
suggested that future inventive genius may provide some form of
"pilot picture" an actual reproduction of the screen picture
at the box-office. In this manner the theater-goer may know at a
glance just what is being shown; and if the feature film of the
evening is half through, he may walk about and return in half
an hour or so in order to start his enjoyment properly.
It may be pointed out that a pilot picture is unnecessary. There
are well-managed theaters to-day which run their performances
on a definite schedule, even exhibiting a "time-table" in the lobby,
so that the theater-goer can tell at a glance what he will see if
he enters at a certain time. Still, this does not solve the problem
of being disturbed by late-comers; most likely, this problem
will eventually be solved by a seating arrangement whereby the
ARCS AND COOPER-HEWITTS IN EASTERN STUDIOS WHERE SUNLIGHT
IS NOT AVAILABLE FOR INTERIOR SCENES
406 The Future of the Motion Picture
middle seats are filled first, leaving the outer ones free for the
late-comers, or by shutting the doors while a photoplay is being
shown. Of course, the feature photoplay, running for over an
hour, has brought about this problem; for with the single-reelers
of a half-dozen years ago each subject lasted only fifteen to
twenty minutes, and there was no great objection to holding the
late-comers at the rear of the theater until the intermission. The
motion-picture art has never been held back by any obstacles,
and sooner or later an end must and will be found to the problem
of the late-comer at the continuous performance.
One of the pioneers of the motion-picture industry has de-
veloped an ingenious projector which is shown on page 407. This
projector is no doubt bound to figure in the future theater. It
consists of two projectors in one, projecting the images at right
angles to the lamp houses by means of prisms. The film reels
are placed in a fireproof cabinet below the projectors proper.
Eight reels or more, comprising the entire program, may be pro-
jected automatically without a hitch, one film following the other
without attention on the part of the operator. In fact, the de-
signer claims that the day is not distant when the asbestos or
fireproof booth will be done away with, and the operator will go
about his work in evening clothes in a simple enclosure of brass
railing. The audience will be able to "see the works," so to
speak.
CAN THE PHOTOPLAY BE IMPROVED?
There is a vast difference between the pnotoplays of the present
and those of a decade ago. But during the past two or three
years progress along this line has been somewhat limited and not
so obvious. The photoplay of to-day leaves little to be desired;
motion-picture acting and story-telling technique and photog-
raphy appear pretty nearly perfect.
To prophesy how photoplay acting will be improved in the
productions of to-morrow is well-nigh impossible at present; for
the attainments of to-day fulfill all that could be wished for
and more. We have the greatest actors and actresses appearing
in photoplays even those talented and renowned artists who but
a few years ago would never have condescended to "act in the
movies." The direction of photoplays is now in the hands of
THIS PROJECTOR SHOWS AN ENTIRE PROGRAM WITHOUT INTERRUPTION
OR ATTENTION ON THE PART OF THE OPERATOR
40$ The Future of the Motion Picture
veritable masters and it seems very unlikely that any striking
improvement can be realized in this direction. All in all, the
work of the motion-picture artists appears to have about reached
the ideal or dare we actually call it perfection?
As for photographic effects, it would seem that those now
at the disposal of directors are quite complete. Close-ups, vig-
nettes, "fade-ins" and "fade-outs," double-exposure, special
printing, and beautiful tinting and toning enable the telling of a
picture story in an effective and pleasing manner. Still, there
are great possibilities in cinematography proper just the same as
there are in any other art where mechanics play a large part.
Eyestrain has been given considerable attention during the past
few years. One does not have to strain one's memory to recall
those days when a headache or strained eyes marked a visit to a
picture theater. Indeed, in order to reduce this eyestrain it used
to be quite the thing to look at the screen through the fingers,
or through a slot cut in a piece of cardboard. And later on,
while this eyestrain still existed, one inventor got up a pair of
spectacles consisting of fibre disks with a horizontal slot in each.
The narrow slot, whether between fingers, in a piece of cardboard,
or special spectacles served to shut off the distracting sidelights or
reflections arising from the excessive flicker of the pictures.
The flicker of the screen was soon reduced to the irreducible
minimum, practically speaking. There have been machines
designed which are absolutely flickerless machines in which one
image dissolves right into the next without a period of darkness
on the screen, hence without flicker of any kind. But such pro-
jectors, being more or less elaborate and expensive, have not as
yet met with commercial success; the reason, apparently, is that
the standard projectors are good enough, so to speak. It may be
that in the future the audience will demand these improved pro-
jectors, in which event they will be forthcoming. They now
exist, in practical form; but again the inventors await the final
verdict of that judge of judges the public.
Another source of eyestrain has been that caused by sudden
changes on the screen, either in the composition of successive
scenes or in the degree of illumination. For instance, if in one
scene the eyes have been drawn to a figure on the extreme left,
410 The Future of the Motion Picture
and in the next the point of interest lies to the extreme right, the
onlooker is immediately disconcerted and his eyes seek out the
new point of interest only after suffering eyestrain and momen-
tary confusion. Again, if one scene has been made in the open,
in bright sunlight, and the next is uniformly dark, the quick
change from a bright scene to a dark one and particularly vice
versa is quite trying.
Already producers have given much attention to the matter
of scene changes on the screen. The more advanced producers
at this moment have more or less overcome all sudden changes
in either light or points of interest. Where successive scenes do
not match up sufficiently close to permit of going directly from
one to the next, the various devices such as the "fade-in" and
"fade-out," the various vignettes, and so on are employed. In
this manner the eyes are gradually removed from one scene and
introduced to the next.
Again in the matter of titles much attention has already been
given to eyestrain. It used to be a regular thing to insert a title
anywhere and everywhere, according to the story of the film.
The eyes of the audience were taken off a bright scene, introduced
to an inky black title, and no sooner were the eyes accustomed
to the black oblong when they were suddenly confronted with a
dazzling white scene again. Then came the decorative title,
which, originally, was intended as something aesthetic rather than
utilitarian. Some producers soon came to realize the practical
value of the decorative title and ever since have used it with a
double purpose in mind.
Because of the possibility of tinting the decorative title to any
desired degree, this later-day innovation serves to relieve eye-
strain. If the title is to be inserted between a dazzling white
scene and a dark one, the design or motif of the title is made
rather dark, so that the eyes of the audience are carried over from
the bright scene to the dark one in progressive steps. Or if the
title comes between two bright scenes, then the motif is worked
up in light tones, so that the eyes are but slightly altered between
scene and title, and back again to scene. One excellent practice
now in vogue is to have the title always appear in a black oblong
or square in the center of the gray motif or design. In. this man-
AS FAITHFUL REPLICAS OF FRENCH BUILDINGS, EVEN DOWN TO THE
MINUTE DETAILS, THESE SETS CANNOT BE SURPASSED
412 The Future of the Motion Picture
ner the lettering runs uniform on a uniform background, while
the variable border takes care of the eyestrain.
Particularly in the matter of animated cartoons is eyestrain
constantly being considered. Producers of such subjects are now
shading their little characters and tinting their films, in order
to take away from the otherwise dazzling highlights of the ani-
mated cartoons.
MOTION -PICTURE INSTRUCTION
It was Edison, if our memory serves us correctly, who once
said that he could teach more history in fifteen minutes by means
of motion pictures than could ever be learned from any book.
That statement is precisely true. Long ago the educational value
of cinematography was realized, but its application has been very
slow indeed. Even to-day our schools could be much more effi-
cient and interesting to the students if motion pictures were
employed. In the study of the life of certain animals, for
instance, a single reel would bring out the points in a manner
never to be forgotten by the children. History could be made
to live again and become firmly imbedded in the young minds
by inspiring photoplays.
There is a vast field in front of the educational motion picture.
What is being done to-day by way of teaching our soldiers the
elements of military science by means of special motion pictures,
is but a modest start. The same is true of special motion pic-
tures used in medical colleges to instruct students in some delicate
operation or treatment. Again the same is true of those motion
pictures which are exhibited before engineering societies, showing
the work in connection with a huge bridge or dam or aqueduct.
The action of a delicate mechanism can be explained in the
simplest manner by means of the animated cartoon. A skilled
mechanical draughtsman has established quite a name for himself
by his animated drawings which explain the working of timely
things, such as the submergence of a submarine, the manner of
erecting a big bridge, or the action of a machine gun. And in each
case the explanation is so obvious that even the women and chil-
dren soon grasp the idea, whereas it would require hours of
verbal explanation to accomplish the same end. In the latter
THE BEST OF ACTING IS EXPECTED NOT MERELY OF THE LEADING
PLAYERS, BUT OF THE SUPPORTING PLAYERS AS WELL
The Future of the Motion Picture
case, however, the teaching would prove dull and uninteresting,
whereas the screen always commands interest and attention.
It must come sooner or later, this idea of a motion-picture
library, where a school will be able to secure reels on any subject.
Motion pictures are certain to become recognized supplements to
the textbooks.
THE SILENT BUT CONVINCING SALESMAN
Hand in hand with the motion-picture educator will come the
motion-picture salesman. Both already exist, but only in a
small way ; and the future appears most promising.
Progressive machinery firms are already making use of motion
pictures for interesting prospective purchasers in their products.
Films are prepared showing machinery in actual operation, as
well as the work in the factory and the various facilities of the
firm. Instead of walking into a prospective purchaser's office
and offering him a catalogue after the usual conversation, your
progressive machinery salesman first says a few words mainly to
secure permission to exhibit his set of pictures. His small pro-
jector, weighing 25 pounds or less, is soon set up on the nearest
desk or table; a wire is run to the nearest receptacle; a light
wall is chosen as a screen; the film is threaded through the ma-
chine; the room is darkened, and the improvised screen proceeds
to unfold what amounts to an animated catalogue or advertise-
ment. But this catalogue or advertisement, with its animated
pictures and drawings, holds the undivided attention of the pros-
pective purchaser. It is, in this respect, far different from the
printed page which can be of some value only if it commands a
few moments' attention.
Salesmen selling machinery, modern farm equipment, gasoline
tractors, and other similar lines were formerly awkwardly placed
when face to face with a skeptical and half -interested prospective
purchaser. In answer to the question, "But where can I see one
of your machines in operation," the prospective buyer would be
told that there was one only three hundred miles away. In fact,
the firm would pay all the traveling expenses! Would the
prospect please come along and be convinced?
The bigger the business man the more valuable his time. So it
generally proved that the really big man who was in a position to
416 The Future oj the Motion Picture
sign the order "on the dotted line," could not and would not spare
the time for such a trip. He remained unconvinced.
Commercial motion pictures have changed all this. Those
progressive firms which back their salesmen with the best reels
that genius can produce, have stolen a long march on their
competitors. The most skeptical prospective customer can be
convinced by showing him machines or equipment actually in
use, either around the corner or around the globe from where
he sits at that very moment. And it is a human failing to like
pictures; a salesman with pleasing personality can always secure
a few moments' audience with the busiest executive if he has
motion pictures to show him.
The silent but convincing salesman, the motion picture, is
coming in a big way within the next few years. Compared to
other forms of publicity, the motion picture is inexpensive. In-
deed, and as was explained in a preceding chapter, cameras can
now be purchased at a slight cost, while numerous types of
portable projectors are available for the use of traveling salesmen.
So with an investment of a few hundred dollars and an outlay of
$50 or $75 for each reel, any organization can avail itself of the
very best form of publicity.
Motion picture publicity need not be limited to interesting
prospective customers in their offices. Carefully prepared and
without the earmarks of out-and-out advertising, special films
can be made for use in theaters, before conventions, in clubs, and
so on. Such films have been made and exhibited in numerous
instances, and they have appeared on the same program as photo-
plays and news films without arousing anything but keen interest
and appreciation on the part of the audience. Almost any busi-
ness has much romance involved in its working, and it only
remains for some master mind to dig out the interesting things
and present them in a film.
And where does the publicity value come in if no name ap-
pears? one asks. The answer is simply this: That if a firm is
turning out a certain product, it can secure added business by
creating a. general demand for that product. Once the demand
is created, any business well conducted has ways and means of
obtaining its share of the orders.
AS
A MEANS OF CENTRALIZED LIGHTING, POWERFUL SEARCHLIGHTS
SUCH AS THIS ONE ARE NOW BEING INTRODUCED
418 The Future of the Motion Picture
THE 'BROTHERHOOD OP NATIONS
Advertising is not limited to individuals and firms. Even
nations have to advertise to-day.
When the great war broke out upon a peaceful world, Germany
immediately started a vast advertising campaign, or, to give it the
more refined name, propaganda. Newspapers were bought; hun-
dreds of skilled writers were put to work in various countries,
belligerent and neutral ; periodicals were established with a lavish
disregard for money; and, lastly, motion pictures were prepared
of the German army and its accomplishments for presentation in
neutral countries.
The United States, Spain, South America, Central America
and the Scandinavian countries were flooded with German motion
pictures. The object of these was two-fold: first, the Germans
sought to create fear of the German power, which was shown
at work in beautiful France and in expansive Russia; secondly,
the Germans sought, if possible, to create an admiration for the
German deeds. Of all the methods of propaganda employed by
the Germans, it has been held by those in a position to know,
that the screen method was the most effective.
Other belligerents soon followed Germany in the matter of film
propaganda. Great Britain circulated marvelous films of the
mobilization of her armed millions, of her great fleet, and of her
historic battles. France circulated films showing the determina-
tion of the poilus when they carried out their resolve that the
Germans would not pass at Verdun, as well as numerous other
phases of her valiant fight against an almost overwhelming and
brutal foe. Italy sent out her films, showing the brave Alpini
struggling on mountain tops and the wonderful Italian engineers
constructing cableways and roads where only the intrepid moun-
tain climber had heretofore trod.
The Allies, having a good and just cause, finally won the ap-
proval of the world through their motion-picture propaganda.
The Germans failed, because their part in this war was so ob-
viously wrong and impossible, and because German U-boats and
diplomats simply forced one nation after another to join the
enemies of Germany.
And when the United States entered the great war, it followed
II
00
F e
420 The Future of the Motion Picture
the example of other belligerents and set to work making films of
its achievements on the battlefront and the home front. These
films served a double purpose: first, they kept Americans in-
formed as to the progress of the war and the war industries;
secondly, they brought our ideals and hopes and realiz
