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lantern slide a brightly coloured proscenium; a third showed the title of the picture just underneath and the fourth had another film ready to dissolve from the first when it was nearing its end. This was probably the first time that titles had been associated with films and the last for a long while until tides came into general use some years later.
At the big Alhambra music-hall in Leicester Square, R. W. Paul was giving his film show by back-projection through a transparent screen from a little cubby hole at the very back of the stage. This device of ours was supposed to improve upon it. So we invited Alhambra impresario, Alfred Moul, to come down into our cellar and have a demonstration. He wasn't very much impressed. He said it was always the subject, not the presentation, that mattered. Subject, subject, subject he kept on saying. And he was dead right. The only thing that really matters is the subject; that is the story: it has been dead right ever since. If the story does not ring true, neither artists nor scenery nor colour — nothing can save it.
I was writing at the time for the Photographic Dealer, whose editor was my associate, Arthur C. Brookes, and on the advertising staff of the paper was J. BrookeWilkinson, who afterwards became one of my very dearest friends. Arthur Brookes invited me to give a film show in a Congregational chapel in which he was interested. I set up my apparatus in the centre of the front row of the gallery and got to work. About half-way through, I became aware that the 'take-up' was not working and that, while much of the film as it came out of the machine was sliding over the gallery-rail into the hall below, the rest of it was accumulating round my legs. Realising the danger that a spark from the limelight might at any moment drop upon it, I instantly extinguished the light and began in the dark to wind up the loose film. Brookes was at the back of the gallery and he kept calling out in a loud stage-whisper, 'Tell Cecil not to strike a match— don't strike a match — ' I was feverishly trying to continue my lecture while hauling in the film from below, hand over hand, when the heavy brass spool which should have been winding it up, fell off its spindle into the body of the hall. I whispered to a small boy to go down and retrieve it and when he brought it back he reported that it had cut two good tramlines on the bald head of an old gentleman, who was very annoyed and intended to apply for damages as soon as the show was over.
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