Movie Makers (Jan-Dec 1953)

238 Notes from magnetic notebooks: 3 From field to film was the direct route plotted by this indomitable amateur when she took her tape recorder to Norway. She found, however, that DICKY ROTH, ACL there's many a detour between the mike and the stripe IF you gave a loud, good-natured snort — as / did — when you read that ACL enthusiast's report (see Panorama, Spring issue) on how easy he found sound recording with his 202, then maybe this article is for you. For the man I mean remarked casually that he had five fellows to help him, a doctor of music to write a special score, a special orchestra to record the special score and — well, heck, no wonder he found it easy ! / didn't. At least not the first time around, nor the second, nor the sixth. But I have just finished recording ("just," in this case, means last April — Ed.) almost professional-quality sound on my 202 — and I'm not six men. I'm not even one man. I'm a lone and slightly ancient (but very determined) WOMAN! Here was nr" task. I had come back from Norway. I had witnessed there the Norwegians' celebration of their King's eightieth birthday, a soul-stirring spectacle which I shall never forget. The bells rang out, as only Oslo bells can ring! The people cheered, as only Norse people can cheer! And King Haakon rode along as only that gallant king can ride. I shall not soon forget that day. Nor did I intend to, for I had brought with me a Filmo 70-DL camera to record the scene and a Pentron tape recorder to record the sound. Since (for one woman) traveling light is important, I had not brought the 202. But I could see it sitting there silently back home, and I promised it (there in the teeming Oslo streets) that the sounds I would bring back to it would be authentic. Hence the Pentron. And, hence again, my problem. Photographs by Gallaher Studio It began like this. I would film the King riding along outdoors, and then I would dash indoors to plug in Pentron. By that time the cheers and the King were miles away and only the bells remained sounding. So I recorded those, jumped into my car with 70-DL and Pentron and raced ahead of the King's car. Again I hurried indoors and warmed up Pentron just in time to record the deafening cheers as the King passed my standpoint. I recorded, also, the fade-out as he passed from view. But I had missed getting the approach, when you heard first the bells alone, then faint cheers in the distance, then a crescendo of sound, drowning out the bells entirely, as the King came alongside. Well, I went on like that — recording an approach, then filming an approach, and so on. But — the approach I had filmed was up a long boulevard; whereas the approach I'd recorded was along a short street! And the bells were recorded at periods differing altogether. Nothing fitted anything, each being taken at separate and unrelated times. Notwithstanding, I was determined to use only original Oslo sound, and to portray that unforgettable day exactly as I'd witnessed it. Do you begin to see my problem? So now I was back home. The first thing I did was get a cheap (4%0 a foot) black and white workprint made of my color film. I edited that. Next, I rented another Pentron and a Pentron mixer. (I had the notion that equipment all of one make might operate more harmoniously together.) I played my short tapes of bells over and over again on Pentron [Continued on page 244] READY TO RECORD, Dicky Roth, ACL, stands surrounded by equipment in her attic studio. Placement of mike is for picture only, for here it would feed back 202 hum. INGENIOUS is the adjective for the author's improvised sound recording booth. Poised at a glass transom, she looks at picture being screened in next room and records over mike.