CHAPTER XIII

One of the most important matters concerned with the direction of a picture is that of tempo. Tempo is a term borrowed from the music world but it applies to pictures as accurately as it does to music. Its meaning is simple, of course, but to put it in a more commonplace way it means the “timing,” or rather the proper timing of the various episodes that constitute the picture.

The value of proper tempo is at once recognizable with respect to some of the familiar episodes of picture dramas. Anyone can readily realize the value of an ultra-rapid tempo in dealing with a chase episode, either in comedy or in drama, say for instance, when policemen are chasing crooks. Here the motion is speeded up to its greatest possible extent while still keeping within the bounds of realism and probability. Sometimes, as is well known, realism and probability in a chase are far exceeded in burlesque comedies. Likewise, it is just as easy to pick out a typical sequence where slow tempo is demanded; any such sequence as a religious ceremony or an important dramatic denunciation.

To point out one manner in which the tempo of scenes varies in less typical sequences and to point out the value of its variation is, however, a far more difficult thing to do. To the eye of the layman the tempo of a picture may never vary from one end to the other. Subconsciously, however, this variation of the tempo is in a great part responsible for that person's enjoyment of the entertainment. Just as a chase scene is keyed to the greatest possible tempo and just as a denunciation scene may be keyed to the slowest possible tempo, just so other scenes of varying dramatic calibre should be keyed to rates of tempo of varying and relative importance. Sometimes two sequences may be played together in which there is little more than a hair's breadth in tempo but little as it is it is still there, exercising a subtle effect on the dramatic worth of the picture as it unfolds on the screen.

The director who has this realization of the proper tempo down to something approaching a practical science is the best director. To gauge the value of a certain sequence and then to think it out in minutes and seconds is a task of exceedingly difficult proportions. Then too, there is the circumstance of the speed at which the cameraman is grinding to be considered. A cameraman can manage the tempo of a picture by himself if he knows sufficiently and likewise if he is ignorant of the niceties of his work he may well ruin a picture through lack of proper attention to the timing of his scenes, despite all the efforts of the director.

While it doesn't take any unusual amount of judgment to determine the scenes that should be played in fast tempo, it does take considerable judgment to determine those that should be played in slow tempo. Many directors are inclined to award altogether too much film space (are inclined, in other words, to play in too slow a tempo) scenes of little importance. When a director has erred in this fashion a number of times in the production of one picture, the results show on the screen in the shape of lost interest on the audience's part. The spectator gets the idea that the picture is padded out with scenes just to fill in, whether this was the aim of the director or not.

Scenes that should be played in a rapid tempo are usually played at their normal gait on the studio stages but when it comes to a scene that is played slowly for the reason of registering a certain strong dramatic point, these scenes are as a rule played a little bit slower than they would normally be presented.

The question of tempo simmers down, therefore, to the question of how skilled the director of the picture is in securing desired effects on the screen. Tempo is so thoroughly a part of a director's manifold duties, a part of almost each and every one, that is, that it is extremely difficult to disassociate it from any of them. In dealing with it, it is impossible to go thoroughly into the subject without saying something on pictorial and dramatic detail, about the ability of the players themselves and about the camera and its master.

But the picture properly timed and keyed is undoubtedly the best picture. The drama that leads up to an inevitable climax that sustains the interest of the spectator through a considerable series of episodes before that climax is reached; the drama that, at the moment of the climax itself, fairly bursts forth on the admiring spectator in all its strength and force, is the drama made with close attention to the tempo of each of its episodes.

Edward Dillon, one of the surest directors of light comedy in the producing art who received his schooling under such present day masters as D. W. Griffith and Mack Sennett, has a few interesting words to say with respect to the topic.

“Tempo, the gauging of scenes and sequences to their proper time can almost make or break a picture,” he says. “This fact is specially true with respect to the light comedy or the comedy-drama. Audiences as a whole, I don't suppose, can properly realize how much the proper tempo means in the success of a comedy. In my experience in producing comedies I have often noticed that the slightest variation from the proper tempo in one direction or the other, often spoils the effect of a possible laugh. A slight slowing down in tempo may throw an entire comedy sequence out of gear, so to speak, and irreparably weaken its effect on the screen. Too much speed in the wrong place often has the same more or less disastrous results.

“A player can spoil a dramatic or comedy effect by taking too much time to walk out of a room or going out of it too quickly. He can spoil it by allowing the expression of his face to change too quickly or too slowly. These instances are practical examples of what tempo means. A director has to watch his players constantly in order to prevent such slips. They demand particularly close watching when they are not experienced in pictures, say when they have been recruited from the legitimate stage.

“If anyone seeks an actual demonstration of what the lack of attention to tempo means to a picture, let him go to see one of the various cheap slapstick comedies so often produced. He can find them by steering clear of the theatres that show the well known comedy brands produced by the leading producers. When he finds one of the others he will immediately know it because he will see the familiar old chase scenes done in rank, amateurish style. The people in the chase will go fast in one scene and slow in the next. The director didn't know how to achieve the effect he wanted. He probably thought doing a chase picture was the mere job of telling one bunch of people to chase another bunch of people. And that is far from all of it.”

All of which is but one more reason why directing motion pictures isn't the easiest thing under the sun.