American cinematographer (Oct 1929)

October, 1929 I American Cinematographer Thirty-five where, to be lived to the full, and shared with the ever-present camera. It can hardly be expected that he was the only young actor who was grasping these opportunities, but—his pictures were different. They were not all of them the random snapshots of the ordinary young man with a camera: even in those early days Fred Niblo had that instinctive gift for telling stories with a camera that has since been revealed on the screens of the world. His pictures even then had that same ability to arrest interest and to satisfy the eye that they have today: editors here and abroad saw and liked them, bought them, and printed them in their magazines. Soon, the pictures were augmented by short articles, then by longer ones—and the young actor found him- self a successful writer as well. Then a series of European engagements brought him new opportunities as an actor, writer, and photographer. Finally, while he was in London, came a starring contract which took him to South Africa, which was then an even less-photographed part of the globe than it is today. Small wonder, then that once the contract was fulfilled, he should be seized with the wander- lust, and decide to see more of the dark continent. It was during the course of these wanderings that he began the making of motion pictures. In Nairobi he met a man, travel- ing much as he was, making motion pictures for some mission- ary society in England. But what subjects he chose! ‘Tame’ natives in their made-in-Manchester ‘Mother-Hubbards’ and cotton pants: mission converts being taught the White Man’s ways, or trooping meekly into church, singing hymns! Yet all around surged the vibrant mystery of untamed, equatorial Africa! Scenes and things of which the world knew nothing: places which had never been photographed: virgin Africa, into which a movie camera had never penetrated! No man of Niblo’s spirit and experience could willingly allow such a glorious opportunity to go to waste, and he then and there struck up a partnership with the crank-turner—and began to learn the cine cameracraft, and to make the sort of pictures he knew the world wanted. In those days cinematography was a task in any clime—but in the tropics it was next to impossible. Even today, tropical cinematography abounds with difficulties, but in 1907, when the movie was so young and new, the problems which beset these two adventurous souls who first dared face tropical Africa with a movie outfit were beyond all imagination. The precarious film supply: the unknown working condi- tions: the myriad unnamed insects which sought food and shel- ter in the wood and leather work of the camera: these were sore trials, but the real heartbreaker was the climate. Heat, blistering down all day long, until it softened the very film in the cam- eras, and melted away the ambition of the cameramen, was bad enough during the daytimes, but it was cruelest at night, when, in their little, improvised laboratory they would try to develop the day’s takes. For, once it was out of its protecting tins, the film had to be exposed and developed at once, before the hot, moist atmosphere spoilt it utterly. But in such a climate, develop- ment is a colossal problem. Developing solutions must be at least reasonably cool, or the film will frill, soften, and part company with its celluloid base. Modern expeditions, with their portable lighting-plants and ice-machines have almost overcome these troubles, but Niblo had nothing so luxurious with which to work. Instead, he was forced to develop his films by night, in a tent, a stuffy iron house, or any other place he could find, and to hang his precious films on trees and bushes to dry. In spite of all sorts of chemical hardeners mixed in with his solutions, the film persisted in softening. Clearly, something had to be done, or the trip would be a failure. Finally Niblo made a set of developing tanks which solved the problem. They were nested into larger ones, into which the coldest available water was constantly poured. This system worked beautifully as long as the water supply was fairly cool, but when it wasn’t—and it often wasn’t—the heartbreaks continued. Many a time indeed they hung their film up at night, only to waken in the morning and find the emulsion neatly piled on the floor, with the bare celluloid hanging innocently above—and no retakes possible! In time, however, after traveling the length and breadth of Africa, Niblo found himself with enough film and stills to make up a lecture program which was profoundly interesting to a world already agog with President Roosevelt’s impending Afri- can trip. He toured the country very successfully with this for some time, and then returned to travel, finding new material wherever he went. Europe, Scandinavia, Russia, all furnished him with film and photos. He lectured during the winters, and ranged the world over in the summers. It was a pleasant life, and profitable. That is, it would have been profitable, had his summer wanderings been a little less extensive. As it was, each summer’s travel ate up the winters’ earnings, so, reluctantly, he returned to the stage. From there, it was no great step to joining his friend Tom Ince in pictures. Once there, his past experience made it inevitable that he should become a master of the new medium. His own interest in cameras and camerawork have made him known among The Niblo's garden becomes an amateur studio "lot" on Sundays. Here is the great Director with his beautiful wife {Enid Bennett) and his son