Business screen magazine (1946)

)t the Met "'■*: American ArcNtecbie nsBws Viewers (far left) are invariably stunned. The effect of the nonsynchronous projection is almost hypnotic. Photo shows three of the SIX film screens (cloud of dust displayed on one at right appears hazy). Throughout the exhibit, 40-inch square panels are used, sometimes singly, sometimes combined for murals or blow-ups. A tight schedule, modest budget and projection questions are problems that can be overcome. Here's how one producer created a dynamic presentation in the face of such obstacles. By ED SCHULTZ President, Cinemakers, Inc. "We want people to realize that sonic of our best 19tli-centiTy buildings are being destroyed. We want them to care about it, and we want them to take action to stop it. We'd like to have this accomplished in a two or three-minute movie." This was the challenge posed to Cinemakers this past February. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was planning a new exhibition. "The Rise of an American Architecture," as part of its special centennial celebration. Edgar Kaufman Jr. of Columbia University and James Stewart Polshek of the American Institute of Architects, respectively the exhibition's director and co-designer, envisioned an exhibit that would offer insight into 19th-century American architecture through the use of huge color and black-and-white photographs, original plans and sketches, and three dimensional building fragments. For the climax, they wanted a film — a film that would communicate the urgency for action before the architectural heritage being saluted in the exhibit was destroyed forever in favor of parking lots and pizza parU)rs. Because the film was to function as an integral part of the exhibition, there were unique and specific requirements from the start. The plan called for a film that would tell no "story," but rather, would make its point inuncdiately and wordlessly. There would be no scheduled screenings in an aiiditorium-like situation; instead, the film would have to attract the passer-by instantly, hold him long enough to deliver its message, but not so long that the film area would become a bottleneck at the show's exit. Further, the film, as part of the exhibit, would have to run continuously — eight hours a day, six days a week, plus four extra hours on Tuesday evenings, plus four hours on Sunday afternoons — for a full five months. It was quickly agreed that the act of demolition itself — especially the huge wrecking ball swinging through the air to shatter stately walls — would make the most powerful statement. But they couldn't be just any old walls. Our subjects had to be distinguished in design, good examples of 19th-century American architecture; since "American" implies the whole country, those examples had to be taken from a variety of locations; including private homes, as well as public buildings. Taking the chance of being present at the filmworthy instant of demolition of a qualifying building would tax both schedule and budget to an impossible extent. So began an intensive search led by Carol Hale, Cinemakers producer/writer and. incidentally, longtime architecture buff. She found that few newsreel or stock houses had bothered to record architectural treasurers being demolished, and art-lovers hadn't had much heart for filming the destruction. Still, as phone calls and letters went out across the U.S.. she discovered a tremendous undercurrent of interest and eagerness to help in the search, so that one contact led to another, and yet another. Finally, we had what we wanted: Continued on next page