Part 2

Below the film-gate we find another sprocket-wheel, this one to pull the film through the gate, being operated by an intermittent movement. This movement brings the required length of film before the condensing lens’s rays, allows it to remain there the necessary length of time, and then repeats the operation over and over until the entire reel is shown. Improvements in projection-machines, and especially in the “intermittent movement,” have eliminated the flickering, “jumpy” pictures we remember so well only a few years ago. The film is put in motion by a crank at the side of the machine, operated either by hand or by electric power. It is the function of the intermittent movement to convert this rotary motion into the short rectilinear motions that move the film, with the corresponding rests while it is being shown. The principal type of intermittent movement consists of a revolving “pin”wheel, operated by the turning of the crank. The pin engages in the arm of another wheel, a cross in shape, which makes one-quarter of a revolution, and, since it is connected to the sprocket-wheel, thus pulls the film through the gate. At the completion of its down stroke the pinwheel necessarily disengages with the arm of the cross and continues to revolve. But the cross is idle, so the film is held firm in the gate until the pinwheel completes the circle and engages with the next arm of the cross. This will serve the purpose of explaining the principle of the intermittent movement, though improvements and variations are constantly being made.

The portions of the projection-machine yet unexplained are the objective lens and the shutter. The lens, which is immediately in front of the film-gate, receives the rays of light passing through the film from the condenser and throws them on the screen. The shutter, which is usually of the revolving-disk type, interrupts the light while the film is being moved to allow the next photograph to reach the correct position. It may be remarked here that the film cannot be allowed to remain in the film-gate indefinitely, for the intense heat of the light from the condenser would soon ignite it. This occasionally happens when the film buckles, and the operator’s first thought when there is trouble with his machine is to shut off the light. Safety fire appliances prevent the blaze from spreading beyond the film-gate.

The motion photographer is able with the aid of his camera to perform any number of miraculous feats. He can have one man play two or three parts on the screen at one time, thus having an actor engage in conversation with himself, and so on. And then, readers are most likely all familiar with the pictures showing magical appearances and disappearances of characters. Or the picture-maker can give you a thrilling view of the burning of a city, yet he need not have journeyed outside the studio or expended more than a few dollars to get the scene.

The use of models built in exact miniature explains the producer’s ability to burn a thriving metropolis to the ground so easily. The wreck of an ocean liner is another feat accomplished in a small tank with papier-maché models. When photographed with the camera comparatively close these scenes appear on the screen to be absolutely realistic, though to the spectator in the theater it seems that the camera was placed at a great distance. Readers who remember the startling volcanic eruption shown in “Cabiria” have evidence of the remarkable deceiving power of the models.

Plays with twin brothers or sisters in the principal rôles became popular with picture producers after they discovered that it was possible to have one player appear simultaneously in the two parts. This is accomplished by “double exposure,” which, as the words indicate, is performed by exposing the same strip of film twice. Take the case mentioned, the showing of twin brothers, as an example. First a hair-line division is made of the stage, marking off the two parts on which the different brothers are to appear. Then the scene on one side of the stage is photographed, the film on the other side being protected from exposure--“masked” is the technical term. Following the photographing of this scene, the actor playing the twin brothers steps to the other side of the stage and, with the action already photographed now “masked,” the same strip of film is run through the camera. When the picture is developed it will appear as though two actors appeared in the scene. In making such scenes the director of the production makes use of a split-second watch in order that the action may be timed perfectly and that on both sides of the film chime correctly. It can be seen that a slip of a fraction of a second can easily make the character’s actions appear ridiculous. Despite the difficulties of the work, however, it has become quite common, and daring directors have gone so far as to have dual characters, played by one person, clasp each other’s hands. Where physical contact is attempted, it will be seen that the director, in addition to accurately timing the action on both sides of the film, must have a marker that will note to the fraction of an inch the point at which the character stretched his hand outside the camera’s range, so that, when the other side of the film is photographed, the joining will be perfect. A thread, invisible to the camera, and stretched from above the stage to the floor will serve this purpose.

A type of double-exposure work that is, perhaps, even more familiar to readers is that used in showing visions, as, for instance, when the producer desires to show the thoughts that are passing through a character’s mind. The vision may appear in one of the upper corners of the scene, the more common method, or, for novelty’s sake, it may form on the pages of a book the character is reading. The principle in these cases is similar to that explained in the twin-brothers scene. First the action covering most of the scene is photographed, with that part of the film masked on which the vision is to appear. Then the same strip of film is run through the camera to photograph the players enacting the action of the vision. It will be readily apparent that in this work the camera’s perspective must be altered, where in the twin-brother scene it was necessary that there be no change in the position of the camera until both scenes were photographed.

The magical appearances and disappearances of characters will be simple to readers who now understand the operation of the motion-picture camera. They will see that it is an easy matter to have a character disappear by ceasing to turn the crank, covering the lens, and then having the character walk off the scene, after which the turning of the crank is resumed. When the picture is developed the player will be seen up to a certain point, then he will suddenly disappear, but the other objects in the scene will appear unchanged. In the same manner a person can be brought suddenly on the scene, appearing to spring from the air. Trick effects may also be secured by running the film through the camera backward, and reversing the actions of the players, that is, making them “do things backward.” When the film is run through the projection-machine correctly, and shown on the screen, you see the player perform such miraculous feats as jumping from the middle of a river clear up a steep bank, when in reality to take the picture he leaped backward from the bank to the river--but the film was reversed.

In securing all these effects the producer does not fail to make use of the power of suggestion in the mind of the audience. For instance, the amazing disappearance will be accompanied by the ignition of a smoke-pot, so that it will appear that the character “went up in smoke,” a decidedly more impressive effect than to have him of a sudden vanish into thin air. The latter appears too artificial. In photographing visions, also, the camera’s eye will be narrowed, then gradually widened, so that the audience imagines it can see the figures taking shape and form. With the use of models especially the power of suggestion must be adroitly employed, for, if given undistracted opportunity to examine a scene, the audience would quickly note its artificiality. If a producer were forced to use models in depicting a train wreck, for example, he would be careful to work up to it by showing views of real trains speeding along the rails, and even actual views of the spot at which the wreck was to occur. The models would then be built in exact duplicate of this spot. Flashes of the model trains rushing to destruction would then be interspersed with close-up views of the characters in the story, who, we will say, are supposed to be on one of the trains, or else they are rushing to a switch in a vain attempt to prevent the wreck. Following the crash of the trains the producer would be quick to give us close-up views of a real train wreck, probably taken months before by a news photographer, or else he might batter a studio-built car, upset a smoke-pot or two, and have the characters in the story rush about in the dimly lit--but apparently harrowing--scene. The different scenes might be taken days, weeks, or even months apart, yet when joined together by a careful producer the effect would be that of a swift, onrushing climax.

What about talking-pictures and natural-color films? is one of the first questions asked by the layman. He remembers that perfect talking-pictures were announced some years ago, and that kinemacolor pictures which reproduce all the coloring of nature have long been on the market. Why have they not crowded the old black-and-white and silent pictures out? Let us take the talking-picture first. The illusion of seeing the characters and hearing them speak at the same time is produced by the synchronization of a phonograph and the picture-projector. Now, while perfect timing can be secured, no way has been found to keep the synchronization perfect. A scratch on the talking-machine record, for example, can be seen to result disastrously if it jumps the conversation a word in advance of the figure on the screen. Again, motion-picture film must undergo considerable wear in the projection-machine and frequently the perforations are torn. The operator will then cut the torn piece out and paste the film together once more. The lost bit of action is not noticed on the screen; the pictures follow one another too rapidly for that. But a corresponding change cannot be made in the talking-record, and it does not require many patches to throw film and phonograph out of time. It is possible that these mechanical difficulties will be overcome, and also that the talking-picture will be perfected so that, instead of the simplest of scenes as at present, it will be able to depict the entire action of an ambitious drama, but to-day it is clear that the picture patron greatly prefers the silent drama.

Natural-color films, which are taken by means of two cameras, photographing separately the red and green rays of the spectrum, the two being superimposed in projection, though more successful than the talking-pictures, have failed of being universally adopted. The brilliance of the pictures was found to be tiring to the eyes, while the depiction of rapid action without the presence of a blur or “fringe” around the characters was found difficult. Open-air stages and ideal conditions were necessary to secure the full benefit of the sun, and the requirement for a specially designed projection-machine proved a handicap. But the prophet would be foolish who would pronounce either natural-color or talking-pictures as dead because of early failures.

III

MOTION-PICTURE SUBJECTS

The camera’s eye may roam the world for subjects; its range equals that of the newspaper or magazine. The stage and literature, travel, science, news and advertising, all are open to the motion picture. The photoplay, presenting a visualized story, is the most popular form, for the public heeds quickest the call of entertainment. But serious students of the motion picture believe that, in time, its purely amusement features will be dwarfed by the development along lines that may be roughly grouped under the heading “educational.”

Even to-day the news pictorial is one of the most interesting and profitable of motion-picture subjects. Five of the picture companies have representatives stationed all over the globe, gathering material for these “animated newspapers,” while there are scores of small companies covering limited territories with a direct appeal to local picture theaters. The news pictorial camera-man must be as alert as his stepbrother, the reporter, for the competition is every bit as keen as that in the newspaper field, and a victory over a rival just as great cause for elation. But the photographer must be “on the spot” while his news is happening, so that his work is much more difficult and his field limited. Furthermore, the camera-man’s news must, either by its importance or its human interest, have an appeal to the entire country, and the ideal piece of “news-film” is that which may also be used abroad. Especially disastrous fires, which can often be photographed while they are happening, the effects of train wrecks or other accidents, personages prominent in the news of the day, all these are grist for the camera-man’s mill. Parades are the bane of the pictorial editor’s life, for he knows that lengthy views are not of great interest, yet he is often forced to use them because of the scarcity of views of real news events. Occasionally the editor of the news pictorial will create his own news by having a daredevil perform some unusual feat.

When the representative has taken his picture the negative is rushed to the headquarters, where it is developed, and the editor starts to work assembling the film that has been received from the different field men. Often there are little office tragedies when the film is developed and it is found that a singularly interesting piece of film must be thrown away because of poor photography. The news camera-man cannot make his own conditions; he must take big chances, for the news will not wait for him. After the editor has assembled the film that he can use, subtitles are written, and the completed films shipped to the various exchanges, which distribute them to the theaters. The greatest handicaps the news pictorial has had to overcome are the difficulty of getting the film to the theaters while the news is fresh, and the fact that the news picture’s life is short. A dramatic picture will live, that is, earn money by rentals to exhibitors, almost indefinitely, but the news-film that is two months old is practically ready for the shelf.

Commercial reasons have likewise retarded the development of the educational picture. Indeed, in view of the return that it was possible, until recently, to secure from educational pictures, one must compliment the manufacturers on the moderate attention they have bestowed on the subject. Theater-managers have always been wary of offering their audiences pictures that were avowedly educational, so that the income from this source has always been small. Within the past few years, however, schools and other institutions of an educational character have devoted more attention to the possibilities of the motion picture, and the development of systematic and profitable methods of distribution is likely. Once this is brought about, the growth in importance of the educational picture is certain to be astounding.

The “industrial,” which is the trade term for the picture that is used to advertise a particular product, is another field that has been only slightly touched. There are a number of companies that specialize in such work, but the stumbling-block thus far has been the exhibitor’s unwillingness to show the pictures in his theater. He rightly feels that the patron who has paid to see the performance feels cheated when his time is taken up with a strictly advertising picture. Many of these “industrials” can be made very interesting, however, by weaving light stories around the product to be advertised, so that the advertiser achieves his purpose indirectly and without the necessity of throwing his sermon broadside at the spectator.

We recollect one such subject which was circulated by the makers of a brand of ready-made women’s clothes. An elaborate social function was the basis of the story, and two women who had been invited to the affair the principal characters. One patronized a select Fifth Avenue tailor who disappointed her at the eleventh hour and forced madam to wear an old gown to the function. This tragedy to the female heart was avoided by the second woman. More resourceful than her sister, she purchased the advertised brand of apparel at a department store and was later the envied center of attraction at the society affair. To drive home his lesson the author now had the patron of exclusive modistes visit a relative who lived in the city that was the home of the ready-to-wear clothes. An invitation to visit the factory followed, and the camera carried us along with madam through all the interesting departments. Though it was advertising, such a picture could not fail to appeal to women.

Many artists have entered the picture field either by means of the animated cartoon, in which the figures seem endowed with life, or the picture that shows the artist drawing his sketches. Since sixteen separate drawings must be made for each foot of film it will readily be seen that the work is long and laborious. The strong lights necessary for photographing the pictures also make it trying for the artist, who must work directly beneath the camera. Mechanical contrivances are called upon to lessen the artist’s troubles as much as possible, and many ingenious schemes are resorted to in order to photograph rapidly a series of pictures. For instance, the artist may draw the head, arms, body, and limbs of a figure and then, by means of tabs, move them about under glass plates so as to secure the impression of animation. The idea of perspective may be secured by drawing the object in different sizes, to the proper scale, of course, and then bringing the object forward from a distance by using gradually increasing figures, or, by reversing the process, carrying the object away. “Stop” cameras are used, which remain idle while the artist is moving his figures for the next photograph. Even with all the recent inventions to facilitate the work, animated cartoons are by no means easily made, and a film that can be shown on the screen in ten minutes is a good week’s labor for the artist.

And now we come to the photoplay--the picture that tells a story by means of actors. “Where do the stories come from?” is one of the first questions asked by the layman, though the adapted plays and novels provide their own answer. But what of the ordinary picture stories that form the bulk of the offerings on the screen? Are they bought, like magazine stories, from writers who submit to all the magazines, or are they turned out by staff writers who provide all the stories needed by each company? How much do the companies pay for the stories? How can I enter this profession? The questions are innumerable. Let us answer them in turn.

The first motion-picture stories, following on the period of trick pictures and other simple scenes, when there was still some novelty in seeing pictures that moved, were concocted by the directors and players from day to day, and were usually of a very simple nature. But the producers were showmen enough to see that the public wanted even better stories, and each studio soon had its staff writer or two, usually former newspaper-men, who wrote all the stories required by the players. But the motion picture soon outgrew this period, the staffs of writers at the studios increased in size, and the call for stories from outside writers was heard. During the past few years an increasing number of the stories have been from the pens of outside writers, who send their wares to all the studios just as the ordinary author submits his manuscripts to the different publishers. The latest phase is the demand for the highest quality of stories by the purchase of play and novel rights for long pictures, and magazine short-story rights for the short films.

The staff writer continues, for the producing companies cannot rely on the outside writer, though thousands of stories are submitted each week. And even the stories accepted must usually be rewritten by the staff writer to suit the requirements of his company.

For many reasons the profession of photoplay-writing is not as rosy as one would be led to believe by some of the advertisements of correspondence schools. The prices paid for stories are not very high, though it can be said that they are steadily increasing, and the author of really good work has little difficulty in securing very good rates. From fifteen to fifty dollars may be paid for one-reel stories--that is, pictures that require about fifteen minutes to show. Longer stories are usually paid for at the same basis per reel, though here again the well-known author may demand his own price, or an exceptionally good idea bring a special reward.

Another fact that renders the writing of picture stories more profitable for the beginner as an avocation than a vocation, is the necessity of meeting unusually trying conditions. Like the magazines, the companies favor particular types, but a more binding rule is the necessity of securing stories that suit the requirements of the particular company’s players, or the locality in which the pictures are being staged at the time. There are a multitude of smaller circumstances that may weigh for or against the purchase of stories regardless of the question of merit. The staff writer knows these conditions, his stories are written while the iron is hot, and he is always ready when called upon.

Say to any photoplay editor or manufacturer, “Are you buying stories from the outside now?” and his reply is certain--it seldom changes. “We are--if we can get them,” he tells you. This does not mean that he is not receiving stories; there is scarcely a studio whose mail is not overloaded with manuscripts. Nor does it mean that the stories he accepts must be worthy of being placed on the screen at once as they are written, for the scenario editor takes it for granted that the scripts purchased will have to be rewritten. It is because over ninety per cent. of the stories received are absolutely impossible; one editor places the figure at ninety-eight per cent. In later chapters we will take up more fully the reasons which place these manuscripts in the “rejected” class.

It was their inability to secure a steady supply of good stories from the picture ranks that drove the producers to the magazine field. The entry of the well-known stage-player into pictures and the growth in popularity of the long photoplay caused the purchase of novels and plays. In addition to the large sums paid outright for these subjects the owner of the original rights usually receives a royalty on the earnings of the picture. Staff-men employed by the picture companies adapt the plays and novels to the form suitable for presentation by means of motion pictures.