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SCENARIO FILMS UNLIMITED!
The Story of the Movie-making Long Beach Cinema Club*
By HARRY E. WARD, JR.
MOST amateur movie clubs, in principle, at least, agree that there's a lot of truth to the old saying that "two heads are better than one." Most of them apply it merely to the showing and discussion of the films made individually by the members. But the Long Beach, California, Cinema Club has for nearly four years applied it most successfully to the cooperative making of scenario films. During that time we've filmed more than half-a-dozen scenario productions — four of them featurelength — and we've made our club activities so much a part of the life of our community that when the Club goes into production it receives from the police, the city officials and the merchants of Long Beach the same active cooperation that would be afforded a troupe of Hollywood professionals.
In making these productions, there's no such thing as an official Club cinematographer. All of us who want to film the picture may — and our recent productions have been lensed by as many as seventeen 16mm. and 8mm. cameras simultaneously. Needless to say, there's some rivalry between the members as to which of the various versions of each story is best! Since each member is free to choose his own camera-angles, to shoot or to ignore any given scenes, and to edit and title his film as he may choose, the different picturizations of the same story and action show a remarkable range of originality and treatment.
I haven't as yet heard of any cineclubs that ended in a police-station, but I think the Long Beach Cinema Club is probably the only one which began its career in such surroundings. The first meeting of the club — which at that time was a nameless orphan — was held in an upstairs room over the Police Station in the suburb of Belmont Shore. This was in the fall of 1937.
After two mildly promising organizing meetings (at which no appointments were made, and very little done, since none of us knew how!) the Club's third meeting, at which about 70 people were present, finally got us started right. Expert George Andrews, from Los Angeles' Eastman Kodak Store, told us about the activities of similar clubs in other cities, and showed us some films which proved
a revelation to most of us. Up to that time, I must admit, few of us had any idea of what 8mm. and 16mm. cameras could do: most of us were endowed with only the cheapest of cineboxes and practically no knowledge of how to use them, and judged by any serious standards, our pictures — proud of them though we might be — were pretty awful stuff on the screen.
At this meeting, the Club really got going. Otis Hoyt, who had arranged for our meeting-place because of his connection with the Police Department, was elected President, and the Club got its name. We continued to meet in these quarters — at no cost to the Club — for the first six precarious months of the Club's life. Our dues were set at the modest sum of 50c a month. With the first money taken in, we splurged and bought a large Da-Lite screen which became Club property. And yours truly was elected projectionist, custodian of equipment, and property-man. What a job!
In the spring of 1938 we embarked on our first production — "Danny's Mistake." Somehow, the story was quite a success, even though most of us had hardly any idea which end of the camera ought to be pointed at the subject. For example, though there were, if I remember rightly, some six cameras grinding on this story, there were only two exposuremeters among the lot. And after shooting the first two scenes, the owners of these meters showed us how badly wrong most of us were on exposure. Chastened spirits — and retakes — followed, and from then on we followed the guidance of the meters! The entire production took two shooting days.
When the titles were made and the films screened for the first time, we felt that the project was — to us, at least — a great success. Looking back, I don't think any of us can brag very much about it; still, it wasn't too bad, considering how little we knew about what we were doing.
Well, we had to progress, so in June of that same year — 1938 — we conceived the idea of a Club picnic. We journeyed forth to the Orange County Park complete with cameras, staff artists, wives, kids, lunch and lots of filmic ambition. There we combined picnicking with the
production of a script called "Camera Clickers." In this an Imp (otherwise my Number One son) proved his worth in a leading role. Clarence Aldrich, a longsuffering man who had two months before, become the Club's second president, put on makeup, a goatee, and portrayed what is known as an Artist.
Throughout the luncheon the Imp placed salt in abundance on the Artist's sandwiches, salt in his coffee, and in general made a nuisance of himself in every way a gag-minded script-writer could imagine. The camera-climax was reached when the Artist — via pantomime and title — made the statement, "Of all places to sit, why did I sit next to you!" With that he left the table, picked up his painting, and went to a nice, photogenic spot near a tree and proceeded to paint the landscape. The rest of the Club gathered about to watch and the Imp, seeing his opportunity, picked up a gallon waterjug that stood nearby, and very politely — in the best Sennett manner— poured a generous quantity on the equipment of the painter, who received, too, an abundance on his southern extremities. That, of course, also in the Sennett tradition, led to the concluding "chase," in which the artist's easel and the nearly-finished painting were dashed to the ground and thoroughly ruined. Not particularly original, perhaps, and absolutely lacking in "social significance"— but we had more fun than a picnic making it!
By this time the picture-making bug had gotten well into our veins, so we decided to try our collective hand at a comedy. President Aldrich dreamed up an idea for a story called "Tramp's Triumph." Yours truly, of course, was again property-man — and what a job it was!
To cast the picture, we went outside our own group. There were parts for a housewife, two young girls and two boys. For these we applied to the city school system, and from that source received the needed cooperation in the form of five people who enthusiastically portrayed these parts. The tramp was loaned to use from one of the Los Angeles studios; our friend Mr. O'Connor donned grease-paint and steel wool whiskers and filled the role excellently.
118
March, 1941
American Cinematographer