American cinematographer (July 1930)

NIBLO out on the wing to photograph nineteen parachute jumpers leav- ing the ‘ship’, calmly jumped off himself, that he might give the public a photographic taste of the ’chute-jumper's sensations. But the cameraman’s hazards are by no means restricted to the air. Every thrill sequence in which the audience, through the camera’s eye, is made to participate, furnishes its photograph- ers with abundant perils. Though few of my own films would come under the heading of “thrill” pictures, in them, as in others, the cinematographers have counted no position too peril- ous to be used as a camera-support, if a good picture could be had from it. Racing-cars, roller-coasters, fire-engines, and loco- motives have all served as very mobile tripods. At times, too, the situation has been reversed, with the cameraman entrenched in an uncomfortably small pit, while herds of cattle stamped at them, or fifty-ton locomotives thundered overhead. At times the cinematographer is denied even this protection. One of Director \V. S. Van Dyke’s favorite stories of his experience in Africa during the making of Trader Horn relates to such an occasion. At one time, he and George Nogle were called upon, while in the open plains country, to face the charge of an en- raged rhinoceros. During the first seconds of the charge, Nogle turned to the director, and asked. “Say, Van, d’you know of anyone who’d like to buy a nice, second-hand Bell & Howell? —and calmly kept turning his camera’s crank. Speaking of Trader Horn naturally brings to mind Clyde de Vinna, who was chief cinematographer on the production. Clyde has a wife who’is possessed of a deep-seated aversion to the risks that her husband is always taking. Some time ago he was working on a film whose action centred around a captive balloon. Mrs. de Vinna was appalled at the thought of her husband’s working in the balloon, and extracted from him a promise not to go up in it. Like a good married man, Clyde promised. But at the same time, as chief cinematographer, it was naturally his duty to photograph the scenes which had to be taken from the balloon. So when the time came to get them. Clyde diplomatically remembered that he had only promised not to go up in the balloon—-and spent many days suspended below the basket, and lashed to various parts of the rigging around and above the envelope. De Vinna’s persistence in getting the picture makes me think of the phrase of a celebrated newsreel photographer who said. Director Niblo snapped in action while making “Way Out West” for M-G-M “You can t put excuses on the screen: always bring back the picture!” No better summing-up of the cinematographer’s creed could have been made. However, I have had one experience wherein I actually did put excuses on the screen. It happened many years ago, when I was in Russia. My profession at the time was that of a travel-talker: I travelled in the summer, and brought back films and lantern-slides with which I illustrated the lectures I gave during the winters. Some of these pictures I made myself, and some of them I "directed”, if you can call it that, having them made by more experienced cinematographers than I. In this particular instance I was accompanied by a French camera- man, whose name I cannot for the moment recall, but who was sent to me by Messrs. Pathe, from Paris. We had done very well in our Russian travels, but we had not succeeded in getting any pictures of the famous Kremlin, in Moscow. Photography in that holy spot was absolutely forbidden, and nothing that I did succeeded in getting us anything nearer the coveted permit than vague promises, and innumerable polite Russian equivalents of “manana.” But one day while we were browsing around the locality we found a regiment of soldiers marching into the Kremlin for the solemn ceremony of being blessed before going to a distant garrison. A large crowd was following the soldiers, and this gave us both an in- spiration. I looked at the cameraman, and he looked at me: then, without a word we gathered up the outfit and trailed with the crowd into the forbidden pre- cincts. Our interpreter, as soon as he per- ceived what we were doing, turned pale and beat a hasty retreat. He had no wish to dare fate—and the Czar’s police! But we two were out for a picture, police or no police. Soon the camera was set up and busy grinding out a record of the forbidden scenes. Almost immediately the police evidenced themselves, descending threateningly upon the miscreant at the camera. True to his professional tradi- tions, my friend kept on cranking, and motioned the officers to speak with me. Fortunately I spoke no Russian, and they spoke no English, so I wasn’t able to comprehend their protests until my col- (Continued on Page 22) Here the cameraman takes to the air to get the proper effect in this shot of Marion Davies and Lawrence Gray in “The Florodora Girl” 9