Home Movies (1954)

you can make Special Effects BY A MARBLE A motion picture is an illusion of reality. The more real and lifelike we can make our films the better. In the effort to achieve convincing illusions there are times when special effects can come to the rescue and make a scene convincing that would otherwise be impossible or most difficult to make. Special effects are sometimes called "studio effects" and include everything from food that will not fade under hot lights to the production of special weather conditions such as rain, fog and snow. Many of these have been used with sucess in professional motion picture and television studios. * * * FOLLOWING is a list of some of the more common special effects that have been useful to home movie makers. Beer — To make it appear more appetizing (but actually less so) add a little sodium bicarbonate. It will make the froth white and more photogenic. Blood — Use ordinary household ketchup. Other practical substitutes are chocolate syrup or vegetable dye mixed with whipped cream. Boiling or steaming vessels — Pots containing hot water will boil up if a little dry ice is inserted. Be sure to leave vessel uncovered to avoid excessive pressure. Bread — Substitute bread for photographic purposes may be carved from wood. Breaking furniture — For comedy effects, furniture is sometimes needed that appears strong enough until it is sat in or comes in contact with a person's body. To convert an ordinary piece of furniture into the breakaway kind cut it into pieces and then use matchwood or balsa dowels to temporarily hold the pieces together. When a breakaway chair is broken it may easily be pegged together again. Breakaway glass — Glass panes made of resin that break without the danger of cutting anyone can be obtained from theatrical supply houses. Painted j) I aster or sugar are used to make breakaway "glass" bottles. Bullet Jwles — First drill holes in the surface where the bullet holes are to appear, then insert corks through the back of these holes. When "shot", pull the cork so that light shows through to the camera. For machine gun bullets to appear, first drill a series of holes, then cover at rear with cellulose tape. As "bullets" land you simply tear off the tape to reveal series of holes to camera. Be sure there is enough light showing through holes . See "SPECIAL EFFECTS" on Page 323 a zoo-logical |[ || |f | jjj By CARL KOHLER Anyone who might have been sitting near me (middle section: row forty-three) at our local Bijou during the run of Mr. Disney's The Living Desert may have noticed two rather conflicting details. I had an enraptured expression and my tongue well inside my left cheek. Truthfully, I am always enraptured by the grand nature studies Mr. Disney produces — and I'm still trying to get that particle of popcorn out of my molar. As far as I can tell, the most outstanding difference between the Disney animal films and the ones I have been trying to shoot ... is Mr. Disney is not benefitted by having Mrs. Kohler as assistant camerawoman. Consequently, his films reach the can in good order. Mine are still trying to get there. All it takes apparently to change a poised, graceful female into a nervous idiot with all the coordination of a drunken ballerina is a 16mm camera in her sweaty little mitt and the most dramatic, unrehearsed shot in the world going on before her eyes. This and nothing more. But enough generalization; let me run off a few chagrin drenched memories for you in full-color frustration. And then just let the little woman attempt to convince you that feminine intuition is anything other than male logic with its brains knocked out. Three vacations ago we were roaming the sandy beach of a large lake in search of some good animal shots an naturel. I had gotten some fair long shots, using the telephoto lens, of a number of loons doing whatever it is loons do out there on the water. By ten-thirty I also had a dandy close up of an irritated beaver and his highly incensed mate — both of whom told me in no uncertain beaver-ish terms (edgy little chittering sounds and a certain hearty display of teeth) that if my close ups came any closer, I should find myself holding the camera with a three-finger hand. Fearing neither man nor beast, I retreated out of consideration. Corner a beaver sometime and then consider his teeth. You'll see what I mean. "Hey, look!" twittered the wife. I looked. Then I looked harder. About two hundred yards away stood an oversized moo-cow with a hat rack that could have held all the hats ever lost in a Chicago wind storm. The moose (a bull, according to the Seton Handbook which I carried for instantaneous reference) was casually pulling up tender water plants and munching them with all the boredom of a bank clerk lunching at the corner drugstore. "Here!" whispered the wife, shoving the telephoto lens at me. "Get him before he takes off!" I waved her away. If possible, I wanted to shoot him from another position, thereby getting better light, a smoother stretch of background and a more dramatic angle than the distance shot would have provided. "Are you afraid to chase a moose?" I asked. She turned white. "Forget it. I'll sneak around and come up on the other side of him. When I start shouting, he'll most likely retreat right past here — so be sure you stay behind this boulder and start shooting when he's about twentyfive feet away." • See "ZOO MOVIE" on Page 316 310