Movie Makers (Jan-Dec 1953)

73 I, T O O, S AW CINERAMA A professional observer of motion pictures reports his findings AARON NAD ELL, Editor of International Projectionist UNVEILED in New York on September 30 with a glare of publicity and glamour, Cinerama demonstrated beyond shadow of doubt that the public wants something new and different technically, will crowd to it, and pay for it gladly. The matinee of October 1, the first commercial performance of Cinerama, played to an SRO audience at admissions of $1.20 to $1.50, and was welcomed with salvos of applause. Cinerama is probably not the boon and savior the industry has been awaiting, but it does seem to prove that salvation can be found in technological advancement; and in addition it will quite likely earn large sums of money for its promoters as a big-city, State Fair and roadshow novelty. In those applications it should also provide substantial employment opportunities to the projection craft, since it requires not less than three projection rooms! (In the New York showings they( are using four, but these are still on a more or less experimental basis.) The expressed theory behind the new method is that "peripheral vision" — seeing out of the corners of one's eyes — creates illusions both of third dimension and of realism in general. To achieve this effect, a cycloramic screen is used, so that members of the audience, in forward seats at least, have a motion picture substantially on three sides of them, and do see parts of it out of the corners of their eyes, almost as fully as in real life. The immense curvative of the screen — 146 degrees, not much less than a half circle — makes necessary triple projection, or presentation of the picture in three panels. These are joined seamlessly (that is the intention, not always maintained) to form one vast, sweeping panorama. The effect, as viewed for the first time and with suitable program material, is startling. IP reported upon a laboratory presentation in November, 1950: "So intense is the feeling of realism transmitted by Cinerama that not a few viewers are overcome physically — the genteel term is 'nausea' or 'seasick' — and are compelled to leave the auditorium hastily." This extreme result was not repeated at the October 1st matinee, but the audience was decidedly "overcome" with excitement; in conversations overheard during the intermission they thought it was "great." One advantage that helped produce this impression was Technicolor of marvelous quality. Another was three-di mensional sound better than any ever heard in a movie theatre. During the Aida presentation, for example, one could close one's eyes and almost imagine that the orchestra was actually a living operatic orchestra — almost, that is, nearly but not quite altogether; something indefinable and slight was still missing. But of what other mechanized sound can one say as much? Coming from six different speaker systems, this sound seemed to be always at least quasi-binaural in quality; and at times it followed the action across the screen or swooped round the sides and rear of the auditorium in true stereo reproduction. Much of the uncritical audience's enthusiastic acceptance of Cinerama must be credited to truly splendid color and sound. But if they liked it so well, what's wrong with it, if anything? Plenty is wrong with it that uncritical eyes would not notice at first, but will waken to slowly when the novelty wears off. That no doubt is why its sponsors extended their premiere invitations to personalities who would be impressed and give Cinerama favorable publicity, but not so freely to technical people. For example: Maggi McNellis, radio commentator, interrupted her September 30th description of Fall styles in ladies' hats to announce her invitation to see Cinerama — but no invitations were sent to the Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers. Nor have Cinerama's sponsors ever accepted repeated invitations to In the welter of raves, reports and reviews which followed the premiere of Cinerama — now nearly six months old — the wonder was that the commentators did not run out of encomiums. "I have just looked at the movies' answer to television," said the N. Y. World-Telegram. "Thrills that lift you out of your seat," thrilled Popular Science, and "We didn't relax our hold on the chair in front of us," added The New Yorker. Even this outpost on the periphery of popular screen fare was not caught with its adjectives couchant (see / Saw Cinerama, January, 1953). We found it refreshing, therefore, to read the objective evaluations of this same phenomenon by Aaron Nadell, editor of International Projectionist, a trade journal serving the theatrical screen operator. Entitled there last October Cinerama, A Step in the Right Direction, the article is reproduced in excerpt by gracious permission of the author. — J. W.M. present a paper on il before the Society. (A check by Movik Makers with SMPTE headquarters shows this statement still to be true in the first week of February, 1953— Ed.) WHAT'S WRONG WITH CINERAMA? There are at least eight major technical flaws in the Cinerama process, none of which admits of ready or easy remedy, and all of which were glaringly visible even at the first commercial performance when equipment was still factory -new, and operation supervised by inventors and engineers in addition to projectionists. 1. Horizontal lines are seldom straight. (They are projected onto a curved screen, which curves them.) The pretzel-like effect on railroad tracks was almost grotesque. Funny, or perhaps unfunny in so serious and earnest a project, was the unhorizontal sea-horizon in the roller coaster sequence; for, while the car was rising toward the top the horizon line was a smiling mouth, corners curving up; but when the car reversed and started downward the horizon also reversed and became disconsolate, corners down. The same inevitable, unavoidable effect was also visible in other sequences, but railroad and horizon lines showed it most clearly. If Columbus had had Cinerama instead of only an egg he would have had no trouble at all proving the earth is round — one look at the horizon in the Aquacade sequence would have been proof plenty. 2. The joins between the three component panels (frames) are not always as perfect as desired; vertical junction areas often show plainly. 3. Projector jump (vertical vibration) of the three projectors is not in synchronism. For example, during the solemn singing of Abide With Me one of the massive church columns was partly in one panel and partly in the other; and these two half-columns vibrated against each other, completely destroying the impressiveness of the effect, at least to one observer. 4. When one of the three projectors gets out of frame and needs to be reframed with respect to the others, illusion again is ruined. 5. The projection light on the three panels is often unmatched as to both brightness and color tone. The lagoon of Venice seemed at times to be composed of water of three different colors. And in the Edinburgh sequence the white-faced Scotch bagpiper who [Continued on page 77]