American cinematographer (Nov 1921-Jan 1922)

Page Six The American Cinematographer The Still Camera oA Master of Still Photography Tells of the Value of Qood Stills in Selling a ^Motion Picture to the Public [This article has been especially written for The American Cinematographer by Shirley Vance Martin, official staff photographer for the Jackie Coogan Productions. Mr. Martin has ingeniously linked the value of the still camera and operator with the rest of motion picture production, and his article is full of interesting angles that heretofore have been more or less submerged in the ruck of motion picture publicity. — Editor's Note.] Stills! Nope! Wrong the very first guess! Neither prohibition nor the manufacture of 2.75 has anything to do with the stills in this story in spite of its title. This might be called a little glimpse into that portion of the making of moving pictures of which the film habitue seldom hears, and which is least often written about. The genial press agent gives fans and fanettes daily dope on the doings of Dottie Dimple, the child-vamp; makes you pop-eyed with envy over accounts of the huge contracts and salary pulled down by Charlie of the funny, pants. The ever busy publicity man feeds the daily press full of anecdotes concerning the culinary prowess, the sweet simplicity of the domestic life of this charming young actress, and of the plans and programs of that director. Every point and angle of the game has been served up for your delectation except one single angle, one of the most interesting of all — that of the Still Camera Man. Honestly, did you ever know there was such an animal roaming round the movie lot? Probably not. The very next time you are visiting a studio and watching the filming of a picture, just ask the first director you meet where the still man is. Likely as not he'll tell you they keep him chained in the cellar, back of stage No. 6, or something like that, for while outside the lot such a person is quite unknown, and the value and importance of his work scarcely recognized, by the same token, inside the lot there are yet but a few relics of the pliocene age who do not realize and who refuse to be made to realize that upon the skill and resourcesfulness of the still man and the excellence of the pictures taken during the making of a film play depends to a very apnreciable extent the return upon the huge amounts invested in production. Still pictures are made for the publicity department to place in magazines, for advertising in trade journals and papers, and to shoot to the releasing ageocies. Even though a film has been disposed of through such an agency it has to be sold to you. dear public — in other words, made nopular: so it is self-evident that the finer the ouality of stills and the more truly they depict the dynamic moments of a plav, the keener the competition among: exhibitors to show the film, and — well, really and truly now, Clarice, iust what is it that takes you to the Little Star Picture Palace week after week? Yon and friend Edna pass the much decorated lobby, and it's "Oh, Edna let's see what's on this week." And you consult what — the program? No, ma'am. You look at the still pictures on display, and if they are full of pep and virility, it is a copper riveted cinch you are coing to that show, and you see it because you liked the stills. Am I right, or about half right, anyway, — the other half being that you just had to see your very most favorite idol. And at that you find him — in the stills. Did you know that stills are printed literally by the thousands for vou? There is one actress who has mailed at times 12.000 pictures, usually character studies, of herself, in one week? She maintains a complete deoartment for the work, well knowing the v«ilue to herself of still nictures. One single order for 50.000 prints from one negative of a girl lately come into prominence, was placed not long ago. all to be sent to admirers. And as for the Handsome Hero, nearly all of him keep a secretary who maintains a filing system, cross and double-cross indexed, of the names of ardent fanettes who write for his latest picture. These still pictures create an interest in both person and play obtainable in no other fashion. Ask any old, hard-boiled publicity man and see what he says. He is always howling his head off for good stills; likewise howling my head off if they are not good, for he knows it is the stills which do the work at the box office. I repeat, however, there are a few directors who consider the still man a nuisance and grant him small chance to display his ability and to do his share toward making the film a financial success. One of the keenest directors I ever worked under used to call me "George Stillman, the Human Pest." And was George ever given time or opportunity to use his knowledge of composition, lighting, balance, etc., etc.? He was not! It was: "Hey you! George Stillman! pop in there quick and get that! Hurry now! 'R'you through? Hurry yup; gosh ding it, what's holding yuh, anyway!" The movie camera man has had hours of consultation with director, electrician and technical man to work out and plan his composition and lighting effect; has miles of film on which to picture his action, letting it reach climactic effect in proper sequence. But George is given about 90 2-3 seconds to lug in his heavy box, set up to best advantage, take infinite pains to get the heroine always beautiful, throw a becoming back light on the strong manly profile of the leading man, place his plate, grab the action by the tail, yell for lights, shoot, and get out. Next morning he is expected to hand in a veritable Detaille or Verestchagen in beauty of detail and dramatic action. Sometimes the results embody exactly the very effects Mr. Director had in mind, and then does he go over and, smoothing the classic brow of George Stillman, compliment him on his clarity of vision and perfection of technioue? Yes, he doesn't. He probably grunts or says: "M-m — hm — hm; yeh, that's my stuff!" Just the same, many a chuckle has been mine since making the discovery that every man jack on the lot — producer, director, leadiner iuvenile on down the list even unto the least one of us — likes to see himself or herself in the stills, and when the daily "take" is handed in, does Mr. Director look for "action"; does the technical man look to see how his pet scene photographed? No, not. He flips the prints through to see his own phiz smiling up at him, and if George Stillman has been hep to his job. Mr. Director finds himself, too. in one or more graceful poses. It's human nature. We all like it, but do you ever see one single picture with the still man in it. Jamais, jamais de la vie. In more than 400 still pictures I took of Kismet, I had to ask to have one taken including me. And that one showed my own handsome man in close juxtaposition to that of a two-humped camel. Can you beat it? Now, I ask you. Interesting problems to solve by hair-trigger judgment are of daily occurrence. Seldom are the many lights placed for the movie camera exactly suited to the still camera, and have to be quickly and effectively changed — broad and hard, with heavy shadows for strong action, or so daintily graded for a close up as to completely satisfy that most exacting of all human beings, a movie star. The youthful must be kept youthful, and the one not so youns; must be made to look younger. And woe betide the still man who by improDer arrangement of lights gives even a hint of a double chin, male or female. That of all crimes is the crime de luxe, so to speak, and the punishment everlasting "fired." A thousand deeply technical details of photography and optics — the nature of the action, whether love scenes or murder — all enter the problems to be worked out swiftly and surely. Every moment of the play must be followed, the