CHAPTER I

ATTRACTIONS AND OPPORTUNITIES OF THE ART

Profit and pleasure combine to win recruits for the art of animated photography. As an entertainment offered to the public, the moving-pictures have had no rival. Their popularity has been remarkable and universal. It increases daily, and, since we are only now beginning to see the magnitude of what the cinematograph can effect, it is not likely to diminish. This development has stirred the ambition of the amateur or independent photographer because the field is so vast, fertile, and promising. Remunerative reward is obtainable practically in every phase of endeavour so long as the elements of novelty or originality are manifest. The result is that it is attracting one and all. Animated photography can convey so fascinating and convincing a record of scenes and events that many persons--sportsmen, explorers, and travellers--make use of it.

From the commercial point of view the issue is one of magnetic importance. In all quarters there is an increasing demand for films of prominent topical interest, either of general or local significance. The proprietors of picture palaces have discovered that no films draw better audiences than these. If they deal with a prominent incident like a visit of royalty to the neighbourhood, an important sporting event, a public ceremony, or even, such is human nature, with some disaster to life or property, they will make a stronger appeal for a few days than the general film fare offered at the theatre, because the episode which is uppermost in the mind of the public is what draws and compels public attention. Even, it would seem, when the reality itself has just been witnessed by the audience, its photographic reproduction proves more attractive than all else.

The picture palace, indeed, is assuming the functions of the illustrated newspaper, and is governed by like laws. The more personal and immediate the news, the more pleased are the beholders. So there is an increasing effort to supply upon the screen in life and motion what the papers are recording in print and illustration. One can almost hear the phrase that will soon become general, "Animated news of the moment." Already the French are showing us the way. In Paris one is able to visit a picture palace for 25 centimes at any time between noon and midnight and see, upon the screen, the events of the hour in photographic action. As fresh items of news, or, rather, fresh sections of film, are received, they are thrown upon the screen in the pictorial equivalent of the paragraphs in the stop press column of the newspapers, earlier items of less interest being condensed or expunged in the true journalistic manner to allow the latest photographic intelligence to be given in a length consistent with its importance.

It is obvious that this branch of the business must fall largely into the hands of the unattached or independent worker, who bears the same relation to the picture palace as the outside correspondent to the newspaper. A firm engaged in supplying topical films cannot hope to succeed without amateur assistance. No matter how carefully and widely it distributes its salaried photographers, numberless events of interest are constantly happening--shipwrecks, accidents, fires, sensational discoveries, movements of prominent persons, and the like, at places beyond the reach of the retained cinematographer. For film intelligence of these incidents the firm must rely upon the independent worker.

Curiously enough, in many cases, the amateur not only executes his work better than his salaried rival, but often outclasses him in the very important respect that he is more enterprising. Acting on his own responsibility, he knows that by smartness alone can he make way against professionals. Only by being the first to seize a chance can he find a market for his wares. Thus when Blériot crossed the English Channel in his aeroplane it was the camera of an amateur that caught the record of his flight for the picture palaces, although a corps of professionals was on the spot for the purpose. True, the successful film showed many defects. But defects matter little compared with the importance of getting the picture first or exclusively. Similar cases exist in plenty. The amateur has an excellent chance against the professional. His remuneration, too, is on a generous scale. The market is so wide and the competition is so keen, especially in London, which is the world's centre of the cinematograph industry, that the possessor of a unique film can dictate his own terms and secure returns often twenty times as great as the prime cost of the film he has used.

The market is open also to travellers, explorers, and sportsmen. These, with a cinematograph camera and a few thousand feet of film, can recompense themselves so well that the entire cost of an expedition may be defrayed. An Austrian sportsman who roamed and hunted in the North Polar ice fields received over £6,000 ($30,000) for the films he brought back with him. Mr. Cherry Kearton, who took pictures of wild life in various parts of the world, sold his negatives for £10,000 or $50,000.

Scientific investigators are in the same happy case. When their researches lead them to anything that has an element of popular appeal, there is profit awaiting them at the picture palace. The life of the ant, for instance, or electrical experiments, or interesting phases of chemistry, and many other features of organic and inorganic science, yield good returns to the scientist with a camera. Such films will command 20_s._ ($5) or more per foot of negative.

There is another branch of the work already well established. The producer of picture plays, if his plot be tolerably good and the scenes well acted and well photographed, and if the play itself promises some popular success, can command a good price. At the moment there are several independent producers at work throughout the world. They have a large open market for the disposal of their wares and find no difficulty whatever in selling all they can produce. Even the largest producers, who have huge theatres and command the services of expert scenario writers and players, do not hesitate to purchase from outside sources.

A cinematograph camera, and a little luck, will make anyone's holiday profitable. The travelling amateur penetrates into places overlooked by the professional, and usually takes greater pains with his work. Afterwards he finds his market in the fact that the demand for travel pictures is so great that a good film of 300 feet will fetch £40 ($200) and upwards. At home he may exploit his ingenuity in making trick films, a most popular feature at the picture palaces, so long as he keeps novelty to the forefront. Trick films, unfortunately, take so long to prepare and demand such care, skill and patience that the largest firms of producers as a rule are not eager to attempt them, because their production disorganises the more regular and profitable work of the studio. A good trick film of 800 feet may occupy six months in preparation. But the amateur may approach what the large firm fears. To him time is no object, and he is able to maintain his interest, care, and ingenuity to the end of the quest. On the other hand the professional worker often tires of his trick subject before the task is half completed, with the result that novelty and care are not sustained. One industrious Frenchman devoted nearly a year to the preparation of a film in which resort had to be made to every conceivable form of trickery, and sold his product for £3,000 or $15,000. He also refused an offer of £5,000 ($25,000) for another film of pictures calculated to please children.

To sum up, the amateur or independent cinematographer has a vast field available for the profitable exercise of his skill. Except in regard to the topical work, which is of the rush-and-hustle order, he must show imagination in his choice of subject and craftsmanship in the execution of his work. He must, that is to say, be trained so far as to be no longer an amateur in the popular meaning of the word. He must learn aptitude in the school of experience. The reward is well worth the trouble.

Hitherto the amateur worker has been held back by the great expense of the necessary apparatus. The camera cost £50 ($250), and the developing and printing operations were generally supposed to be too difficult and costly for private undertaking. There was some excuse for these notions. The trade at first followed narrow lines, no welcome being held out to the amateur competitor. But circumstances have been too strong for this trade, as for others, and it burst its bonds in due time. The co-operation of the independent worker became essential as the demands of the market increased. In the production of plays, for instance, England at first led the way. But the American and French producers came quickly to the fore. The English pioneers, not being skilled in the mysteries of stage craft, wisely retired from the producing field upon the entrance of the expert from the legitimate theatre, who realised that the moving-picture field offered him increased opportunities for his knowledge and activity as well as bringing him more profitable financial returns for his labours. The British fathers of the industry devoted their energies to the manufacture of cinematographic apparatus, as they foresaw that sooner or later the amateur and independent worker must enter the industry. The activity of amateurs was needed by the English trade as a whole, and the manufacturer, with great enterprise, brought down the cost of apparatus to a very reasonable level. This has been effected by methods not less advantageous to the purchaser than is the reduction of the price--by standardisation of parts and simplification of mechanism.

To-day a reliable camera for living pictures, suitable for topical and other light work, can be bought for £5 or $25. A more expensive camera, the Williamson, costs £10 10_s._ ($52), and is actually as good as other machines priced at four or five times that sum. On the other hand, so much as £150 ($750) can be paid. But the camera sold for this large sum demands a purchaser with something more than a long purse. It demands special knowledge. Designed for studio work, it has peculiarities that are difficult to master and is not to be recommended to a beginner.

With the cost of the camera the cost of other apparatus has fallen in proportion. It was realised that the amateur's dark room and other facilities are likely to be less excellent than those of the professional and that he must be provided with compensating conveniences. This problem has been solved. A complete developing outfit can now be packed in a hand-bag, and a camera and printing outfit can be carried in a knapsack no larger than is required for the whole-plate camera of the old "still-life" photographer. Simple and efficient appliances for the dark room can be purchased very cheaply. There is a portable outfit for use in field work, where it is imperative that films should be developed as soon as possible after exposure, and this outfit is now used by the majority of travellers and field workers, such as Cherry Kearton, Paul Rainey, and others. Distinct advantage, it may be observed, comes from prompt developing. There may be vexatious delay, occasionally, but the photographer is at least able to tell quickly whether his film is a success or a failure. It is better to gain this knowledge on the spot, even compulsorily, where another record can be taken, than to gain it later a few hundreds of miles from the chance of trying again.

The capital expenditure of the cinematographer need certainly not be great. A complete outfit, the "Jury," may now be obtained for £20 or $100. It comprises a combined camera and printer, developing troughs, film-winding frames for developing and drying, and all necessary chemicals. Yet it is no toy, as might be thought, but a thoroughly reliable outfit capable of doing first-class work. Anyone who is more ambitious, or willing to spend more money, should purchase the Williamson outfit. This costs about £40, or $200.

Now for other difficulties that have nothing to do with money. It has been assumed that the art of animated photography is a mystery demanding a long and weary apprenticeship. But the impression is really quite wrong. Anyone who has practised still-life and snap-shot photography may become proficient in the new art within a week or two. Many of the problems encountered in the old photography are actually easier to solve in the new; some are eliminated entirely; others, that are intensified, are really not very hard to master.

Animated photography is nothing more than a Kodak worked by machinery. Instead of the shutter being actuated by hand to make an exposure, and the film afterwards moved by turning a roller so as to bring a fresh area before the lens, the two movements, in the cinematograph, are combined. The rotation of the handle alternately opens and closes the lens, and moves the film forward a defined distance after each exposure. Therefore, speaking generally, if the beginner knows how to use an ordinary camera and is familiar with subsequent operations of developing and printing, he should be able to accustom himself quite readily, with little waste of material, to the different conditions of motion photography.

There is practically but one process that he should not at first attempt. This is the perforation of the film. The film is a celluloid ribbon and is punctured near either edge, at intervals, so as to enable it to be gripped by the claws of the mechanism and moved forward intermittently a definite distance--three quarters of an inch--through the camera. This puncturing or perforation of the film is the most delicate of the whole cycle of operations. It can only be done by a machine of unerring precision manipulated with extreme care. The machines, though many are on the market, are somewhat expensive, and it is upon them that the steadiness of the picture on the screen depends. The inaccuracy in the perforation may be slight, a minute fraction of an inch, but it must be remembered that each picture on the film is magnified more than fifteen thousand times upon the screen, and the errors are magnified in proportion. But these considerations need not trouble the amateur. He can purchase his "stock," as the unexposed film is called, perforated ready for use.

In spite of the great reduction in the cost of both camera and outfit the expense of cinematography is still its drawback. The film is the culprit. It costs from 2_d._ to 4_d._--say, from 4 to 10 cents--a foot. Yet in this case, as in others, reduction seems to be within sight. The increased demand is sure to cheapen the process of production. If the price is not then lowered as much as could be hoped the cause will be in the cost of the basic materials. These also, perhaps, will become less dear in time. Cinematography is an industry in revolution. Its possibilities are only beginning to be seen; its followers are only beginning to be counted; but it can hardly be doubted that the ranks of the amateur and independent workers are certain to increase considerably and rapidly. The attractions and inducements to practise the craft are too alluring to be ignored.