American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1924)

August, 1924 AMERICAN CINEMATOGRAPHER Seven Cinematographers and the Feature Exhibitors Herald Story Indicates Photography's Part in Film Progress ^ The following article, written by the editor of the American Cinematographer, appeared in the annual studio number of the Exhibitors Herald. The camerman does more than merely turn the crank. "Bromidic" — the impatient one will say — "we all know that." But do we? Do those who work in the film business every day fully realize the responsibility that is the cinematographer's? Or does the subconscious conception of the cameraman as a cross between a crank-turner and some sort of mechanic still persist, spasmodic acknowledgement of his accomplishments notwithstanding. We speak with complacency of the cinema's being one of the world's greatest industries and of its being the newest of the arts. • Who, basicly, has been responsible for this remarkable progress? "The cameraman," some one timidly suggests, and he is gazed upon in blank amazement. The camerman, yes, the cameraman — regarded as matter of* fact as the sun, or rain when there is no danger of drought. But if the sun wouldn't shine, when the rain holds aloof — that's a different story. With the crude stage of the preliminary inventions placed in the cinematographer's hands hardly a score of years ago, perhaps not enough time has passed for the cinematographic profession to be established in general appreciation — the law was old at the time of the Year Books; painting has struggled through centuries. Nevertheless, the close and not erratic student will declare, that the present age of the "super feature" would be impossible if the camerman — and the camerman alone — had not made the many achievements that he has made in the past several years. Where would such productions as "The Thief of Bagdad," "The Lost World," and a host of others be, if they were robbed of those phases in them that have come into being strictly through the accomplishments of the cinematographer. But those accomplishments, however, have become as matter of fact as the cameraman himself. They are no longer hoped for, but expected. What would have happened if the cinematographers as a class had been non-progressive, if they were content to draw their weekly stipend and settle down into the rut of "just a job ?" How would the present day productions fare on a diet of 1908 photography? Or would the stage of present production have been arrived at all — with a non-flexible, non-progressive "art" having circumscribed any advance long ago. It is realized perfectly that high powered organization and brilliant talent have proved the life-blood of the moving picture industry. But would necessary capital or powerful names have been attracted to the cinema if the industry at best could have depended on an imperfect medium — namely undependable photography? No intelligent consideration can deny the fundamental importance of the truly spectacular improvement of photography. What has been behind this improvement? Laurels as an inventor for the cinematographer, either in finances or in renown? Noble prizes? No, none of them. It was all in a day's work. The representative cinematographer, interested always in his calling seeks the chance to make a new cinematographic creation and does it. It reaches the screen and his fellow artists, looking at the production, not for entertainment but with a student's interest, observe the new creation and work to embody it when the occasion demands in the forthcoming productions of their employers. What happens for the cinematographer who has discovered the new creation? Is he hailed far and wide for his brilliance? No, if the event is noted at all, it probably is to give credit to his employer for it. And so creation after creation has come and enhanced the value of motion pictures — enhanced the value for every one identified with them. Accomplishment after accomplishment, taken in the aggregate, have made possible an art in such a short period of time that students of the histsory of arts are astounded. But is the cinematographer's participation therein on the lips of all those who view motion pictures? Hardly when in some quarters he is not regarded as of sufficient importance to allow his name to remain on the credit titles or to mention him even in the program. His art may be paid for — if such pay may be reckoned in dollars and cents — but it isn't appreciated. At any rate, his present remuneration, attractive though it may sound in rarer instances, is not proportionate with that accorded him in the early days when pictures were really in "their infancy." But he may take some solace in the fact that Milton is said to have wrote "Paradise Lost" for fifty dollars. Perhaps the day is coming when the cinematographer will be regarded as something other than "just a cameraman, just another film worker." At any rate, the day seems nearer than it was five years ago, but the appreciation of the cinematographer is still far from keeping pace with the progress with which he continues to imbue the cinema from year to year. Production Starts on Novelty Picture Chester Franklin has begun production on "The Silent Accuser," a novelty picture written for the screen by Mr. Franklin and Frank O'Connor. It is being produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer under the supervision of Harry Rapf. The large cast is headed by Eleanor Boardman, Raymond McKee and Earl Metcalfe. One feature of the story is the introduction to the screen of Peter the Great, famous German police dog brought to this country recently. Its owners have been training the beautiful dog for picture work for more than two years. The dog plays an important part in the story, and helps materially in untangling the complicated plot. "The Silent Accuser" is a mystery melodrama.