American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1942)

THROUGH the EDITOR'S FINDER IT HAPPENED recently in one of our most major studios — there's no point in saying which one, for we've seen the same thing happen again and again in all of them. And it shouldn't. A certain star made a picture in Technicolor; it was a fine job photographically, and everyone from the Head Man down gave out with raves about what a particularly great cameraman the man who photographed it was. In due time, that star made another picture — this time in black-and-white. Of course she asked for the cinematograjjher who had made her so glamorous in her previous production. Equally of course, she got him, and the picture went into production. But after the first few days' work, some of the executives (and perhaps the lady herself) began to ask plaintive questions — why couldn't so-and-so, who had made her look so lovely in her last picture, make her look etjually glamorou.s in this one? As the days went on, that spirit of dissatisfaction (aided, maybe, by surreptitious screenings of pet shots from the previous eff"ort) grew like a rolling snowball, until the various Mr. Bigs had gotten themselves quite convinced that so-and-so wasn't as great a cameraman as they had thought he was. So they took him off the picture, and put somebody else on. The same thing happened with him: he couldn't equal the way the lady had been photographed in her previous picture, and he, too, was replaced. Sometimes this chain of events lasts through the whole of a picture, and places most of the studio's camera staff on the picture (and the spot) for a few days. In the end, the picture gets finished, and the critics surprise everybody by remarking on how lovely Miss Blank looks! Now, it's entirely possible that any cameraman — no matter how great — can miss in photographing a star. But in this instance, we don't think it was the cameraman's fault, but the fault of the short-sighted executives who made the mistake of attempting to judge their star's appearance in black-and-white by the way she had previously api)eared in color. Actually, no such comparison is possible, or fair: even in the rawest amateur's cine-snapshooting, ani/ girl will look better in a color shot than she will in black-and-white. With a skilled professional lavishing the glamorizing lesources of Technicolor on a star, she's bound to look better than he or (iriy other camennan can make her look in blackand-white. The softer lightings possible in Technicolor tend to conceal the lines, wrinkles and under-eye bags so many of our longer-established stars have, while the same lighting in black-and-white would be objectionably flat and "mushy." In addition, the simple fact of color lends an added, glamorizing dimension that can never be obtained in even the best black-and-white. We'd like to suggest that in a case like this it would be a great deal more fair — and much easier on the dispositions and nerves of all concerned— if instead of using the star's previous, Technicolored appearance as a yardstick by which to judge, one used her last previous appearance in a bluck-and-wltite picture as the standard by which to judge present performance. Then, making a direct comparison between blackand-white and black-and-white, the two camera performances could be judged more nearly on their own merits, instead of tipping the scales by adding the unequal comparison between black-andwhite and color, in which color always AMERICA, under the pinch of wartime pressure, is "discovering" the motion picture all over again — not merely as a superlative agency of mass entertainment, but as an educational and socially instructive implement beyond Iiarallel. Not too long ago, we used to laugh tolerantly at the Russians, the Germans, and others who made much of the movie as an instrument of i)ropaganda. Today, we're learning that they were right . . . and learning, too, how to carry the essential messages of democracy to our own people, and to the peoples of our allies and our neutral neighbors, by the powerful voice of the motions picture. Some of our greatest creators, like Major Frank Capra and Major William Wyler, are already in the Government service, making movies for these purposes. Others will follow. But there's a bottleneck — a serious one — in this process. All too few of the nation's top-ranking cinematographers are eligible to don the uniform of the nation's armed forces as Frank Capra, John Ford, William Wyler, and others have done. Age, health and family responsibilities tend to keep many of them civilians, no matter how much they'd like to become active members of the armed forces. Yet many of the films now planned not merely need, but absolutely require the services of the industry's greatest cinematographers, if they're to tell their message with full eff'ectiveness. In view of this, there's much to be proud of in the arrangement worked out between Major Capra, the officials of the A.S.C., and the executives of our major studios, by which the "ace" cinematographers so urgently needed for these vital productions may volunteer their services as unpaid, civilian volunteers, doing their skilled bit to help their country. Briefly, the arrangement is this: a large percentage of our best Directors of Photography are under contract to the major t:tudios, the annual term averaging forty weeks, leaving a twelve-week period during which, at the studio's option, the cinematographer may be off payroll. Ar rangements have been perfected so that an A. S.C. -member may volunteer to make a picture for the Government during l)art of this period — say, two weeks cr moi-e — which the studio will apply as part of his annual layoff-period. During this time, the cinematographer will donate his skill to the War Effort as a volunteer, with his expenses (but no salary) paid by the Government agency involved. Should the production in question extend beyond this time, if he is in the clear with his studio's production needs, he will of course complete the production; if his studio needs him, a second volunteer of equal professional standing may take over the assignment, and, if necessary, be followed by a third and a fourth until the project is complete. Free-lance cinematographers are arranging to contribute their efforts similarly. We can't help feeling a surge of pride at the response already accorded this plan both by the executives of the studios, and by the cinematographers themselves. The needs are so great that the services of virtually every member of the A. S.C. will ultimately be required, as the production-schedules involved permit: by the response so far received — though by no ineans complete — indicates that Uncle Sam's Army, Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps will be assured of top camera-talent for the filming of their key productions. DURING these last few weeks, we've been more than a little irked by the implications made by one of our leading national weeklies which has charged the administration with conducting a "Hollywood war," meaning, we gather, a war conducted more by publicity than by sincere, shirtsleeve workers. As to the war itself, all we know is what we read in the papers: but as regards Hollywood, we'd like to invite the writers of those editorials to come out here and meet the Hollywood we know — the Holly, wood represented by the members of the A. S.C. and the other technical and creative groups of the industry. No other community or industry, we're sure, can ofl'er any better example of sincere, hardworking ability! • FROM time to time we have the pleasure of meeting i-eaders of THE AMERICAN CINEMATOGRAPHER and learning from them just how their magazine helps them make better pictures, whether as professionals or amateurs. It's very gratifying to have them tell us they consider the information in this journal the best and most authoritive, and that they rely on it implicitly in shooting their pictures. But at the same time, things like that make us feel a great sense of responsibility, which we hope we may never outgrow or disappoint. American Cinematograi'her August, lt)42 353 j^^g~