II
THE STUDIO—THE MECHANICS OF PICTURE MAKING AND SHOWING
Picture studios dot the map of the world. One or more will be found in practically every capital of Europe. In France there are three principal manufacturing companies, each with a chain of studios. Germany and the Scandinavian countries likewise produce a number of pictures, while Italy ranks second to France in the European field. For reasons probably finding their root in the stolid British temperament, England has not kept pace with France, Italy, and the United States as a producer of film. Within recent years, however, there have been signs of an awakening on the part of the English which should give to that country a more fitting place in the new art.
Los Angeles and New York, and the territory around these cities, share the honors aspicture-producing centers in the United States. Several other large cities have picture studios, however, and the list is constantly being added to by the search for new settings or the enterprise of local capitalists. New York has been found to be ideal as a location because of the variety of scenery, from seashore to crowded city street or pretty rural settings within easy reach. But southern California, with almost continuous sunshine, has become the picture Mecca and it is estimated that over one-half of the world’s picture-supply is made there.
Around New York the studios are almost all solely for indoor work, the producers using the “highways and byways” for their outdoor scenes. In California, however, several of the companies own estates covering many hundreds of acres, and it is seldom necessary to go off the company’s property to take any scene desired. Dotting the estates you will find village streets that would seem to have been transplanted from the four corners of the globe. Well-stocked zoos, that would be the prize possession of many a municipality, are a unique feature of some of these plants. Philadelphia also boasts of a large picture-producing estate of this type. Indoor studios may be recognized bythe glass top and sides, an evidence of the desire for sunlight. Mercury lights and electric arc-lights are the means of illumination used for work at night or on days when the sun’s rays do not prove sufficient.
A knowledge of the workings of the motion-picture camera is essential to a clear understanding of the chapters that follow, so it might be well to include that here. You have seen the large box camera employed in the ordinary photographer’s gallery. The motion-picture camera appears very much like an enlarged box camera, with the addition of a crank on the side and a dial to measure the amount of film used. It is mounted on a tripod which is also movable, either laterally or horizontally, by means of cranks. In all essential points motion-picture photography is really continuous snap-shot photography. Celluloid film is used, that for motion-picture purposes being one and three-eighth inches wide, and supplied in long strips, the average length being two hundred feet. By turning the crank at the side the motion photographer is able to get continuous photographs of a person or object in motion, instead of the single picture that the snap-shot photographer gets. As each of these photographs is only three-quarters ofan inch high, it will be seen that the cinematographer can take sixteen separate photographs on each foot of film in his camera. This “sixteen” is a cabalistic figure in motion pictures. There are sixteen photographs on each foot of film. For average work the camera-man photographs the pictures at the rate of sixteen to the second, and they are shown on the screen in the picture theater at the same speed.
When the camera-man turns the crank at the side of his camera two independent mechanisms are affected by the operation, the shutter and the device for feeding the film. The shutter is opened to allow the brief exposure of the film necessary to take a single picture, and it is then closed while another three-quarter inch of film is moved into position ready for the next picture. The camera-man continues to turn his crank, thus repeating the operation over and over again until the entire scene is photographed.
The shutter in motion-picture cameras is a revolving disk, in which a “V”-shaped opening is cut, or also the aperture may be formed by two disks superimposed, in which case the operator is able to vary the size of the opening. The operator’s crank is connected by gears to the shutter, which isplaced between the lens and the film. The action of the shutter has been explained in the paragraph above. It might be stated here that the exposure of the film is a trifle longer than that which would be allowed by the ordinary snap-shot photographer, since the blurring which results on the picture is indistinguishable, owing to the rapidity with which the photographs follow each other on the screen.
Two light-tight boxes are contained in the camera, one at the top to hold the raw film, and the lower one to receive the film after it has been exposed. Perforations have been made along the edges of the film before it is placed in the camera, the holes being oblong in shape, one-eighth of an inch wide and one-sixteenth of an inch in height. The film-feeding device, which is either of the sprocket-wheel type, which drives the film through, or the claw-hammer type, which pulls it, engages in these holes. The perforations serve a similar purpose in the camera, the projection-machine, and in the process of developing the negative and printing the positives. It will be seen that the perforating, which is done by machinery, must be accurate to the one-hundredth of an inch.
The working of the projection-machine,the apparatus which throws the image on the film onto the screen, is in many ways similar to that of the camera. Or, a simpler comparison, the projection-machine is really the familiar stereopticon, or magic lantern, with the addition of mechanism for feeding the film rapidly before the light and the lenses. In the first place, there is a “lamp-house,” a small cabinet which contains the light, supplied by means of an arc-light, and the condensing lens. The light created by the carbons of the arc, while strong, is diffused in the lamp-house, and it is the purpose of the condensing lenses to concentrate the rays before throwing them on the screen. The pictures are outlined on the screen because of the fact that the figures on the film obstruct light in proportion to their density.
From the lamp-house and the condensing lenses we naturally pass to consideration of the film, and the devices by which it is fed before the rays of light with such accuracy that the picture is always in place on the screen, and with such rapidity and uniformity of speed that the spectator is not aware of the fact that he is really looking at sixteen separate pictures each second. The principle of the operation is similar to that used in the camera. The film passes from a fire-proofmagazine above, being pulled out by a sprocket-wheel that engages in the perforations. After passing from these sprockets there is a brief respite for the film, a loop being provided to relieve it so that the pull will not be too great when passing through the film-gate which holds the image in place before the rays of the condenser. It is necessary that the gate hold the film perfectly taut and in alignment, for it can be seen that the slightest fractional deviation would appear great when the image is magnified by the objective lenses onto the screen.
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 movementto 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 filmis 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-machémodels. 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 offilm 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 thethoughts 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 acertain 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 imaginesit 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 togetherby 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 correspondingchange 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.