Motography (Apr-Dec 1911)

14 MOTOGRAPHY Vol. V, No. 4. Realism and the Photoplay By James B. Cnppen IT is hard to tell how a photoplay will affect different people. A film that strikes one man as "good," "bully," "a peach," will strike another as "punk," "rotten," "bum." Probably every film released receives every degree of appreciation from the highest admiration to the deepest contempt. There are almost as many opinions in regard to a film as there are people who see it. One man likes the leading lady's looks, another does not; one man is inspired by the moral, another is nauseated by it ; one man is impressed by the magnificence of the scenery, another is offended with its tawdry pretense ; one man admires the hero for punching the villain's nose, another is shocked by such brutality; one man palpitantly follows the hero and heroine through the devious courses of true love, another is irritated by so much "love business" ; one man likes "Westerns," another farces, another society dramas, another historicals, and another "pictures of every day life." The only films which can be depended on to win anything like universal admiration are those which bear evidence of great cost, those which have a patriotic or religious tendency, those which portray a famous classic, or those which appeal to prejudice, racial, social, sexual, etc. In other words, the film must enjoy a prestige that is extrinsic. It is admired largely for a merit that comes from without. The modest photoplay that "stands on its own bottom" is liable to get everything from bouquets to Very, very often a man's opinion of a photoplay is based upon one definite feeling only; for instance, the man who likes the leading lady's looks, likes the whole film ; whereas the man who does not like her looks dislikes the whole film. The most vivid impression created by a film is generally the one by which it is judged. All lesser impressions are forgotten in the final summing up. That is why criticisms, even written ones, seldom express a mixed opinion ; the thing is either totally good or totally bad. The film is judged in the light of the one vivid impression. As an example of the narrow lines within which an opinion is formed, even by the most enlightened, observe the following criticism written by a man who is known as an authority on motion pictures, having written a book or two. upon the subject. The name of the film does not matter; it was released within the last few months : A mountain picture in the Canadian Rockies. Also a rocky picture in the Canadian mountains. The photography is good. That is put first, because it might be forgotten later. The attempt at detail in this picture would be a credit to an office boy's first effort as producer, because it would furnish him so many examples of things he should not do again. The opening scene represents a workman without tools trying to inspect and repair a freight car and the producer has given the scene a longer time than the workman can keep up the bluff without tools. Beginning with this fiasco the standard is well adhered to throughout the remainder of the film. When the train is cut on the up-grade by the "villian" of the cast, the cars before the cut looked toward the caboose and after the cut, without reason for change, looked toward the engine. After the train is cut, of course the engine runs ahead and the caboose, with its two box cars, stops and then starts backwards down the grade, the caboose leading and the hero lying unconscious on top of the box cars. In the next scene these three cars, two box cars and a caboose, are gaining headway down the mountain slope, but wonder of wonders, some wizard has picked them up and turned them around, the box cars leading and the caboose following. The hero recovers consciousness and twists in vain at the brake wheel of the now leading box car. This same brake wheel occupies his attention through several succeeding scenes in which the mountain scenery is very picturesque, but in which the hero does not attempt the other brake wheel available on the train. Now the little station agent comes prominently to the front in the person of the leading lady. In great agitation she takes the telegraph message which surely came over the line very slowly, considering the pauses in her writing. While writing she is agitated in the extreme, for her sweetheart is on the wild train, but the message as copied by her hand is the smooth writing of a school girl and not even on a printed telegraph blank. Again, after a race in an auto track wagon, the switch is reached and turned and the runaway cars rush madly over it at a pace so great that the heroine runs after them and catches them easily. The heartrending speed of the train down the mountain must be reaching at least three miles per hour. In her excitement the girl forgets to turn the train back to the main track, but the overland limited coming along just then takes the right track properly as any well educated train should, regardless of the condition of any plebeian switch. It is also worthy of note that the overland limited comes over the track in the same direction that the runaway cars came, yet no explanation is given how the overland limited passed the engine end of the train without becoming cognizant of the fact that the caboose end of the train still lay somewhere on the track ahead. The film is a farce; it is to be hoped it was so intended. The photoplay on which this critic heaps his scornful censure, was received by the press reviewers with considerable favor. It was praised for its novelty, its dramatic intensity, and for its daring. It was considered no small feat to induce a great railroad company to place its tracks and box-cars at the disposal of a photoplay producer in order that he might create sensational entertainment for distant multitudes. Three box-cars running wild down a mountain slope with the hero lying insensible on top ! Whew ! The thrill was spoiled for our critic, howeer, by the fact that they came wrong end to. Little points of realistic detail like this are constantly spoiling films for people.. Some little picayunish inaccuracy assumes mountain-like proportions. If a soldier salutes with the wrong hand; if a "Western" is taken in New Jersey; if the clock fails to keep in synchronism with the dramatic action ; if a flag shows too many stars ; if an Indian wears too many feathers ; if George Washington's queue is an inch too long ; if a .hen flies by night; there is always somebody to point it out and burst with indignation. Somebody recently protested because the actors in a photoplay supposed to be laid in Russia wrere framing their silent words in English. This reductio ad absurdum is laughable, but not illogical. The film reviewers reveal a marvelous wealth of archaeological, historical and technical knowledge when it comes to picking flaws with realistic detail. Let a hat or a sword or a detail of costume or scenery occur a year and a half before or after its proper historical period and the reviewers will land on it with glee. Many of them never write with more zest than when noting errors of this de