The international photographer (Jan-Dec 1934)

September, 1934 T 1 1 1XTKRNATIOXAI. PHOTOGRA I'll E R Thirteen natural type he or she is. Always cast for types, depend very little on the actor's ability to transform his appearance or characterization to fit the part. When the cast is assembled (trusting that there had been many applicants for the parts and that every part is correctly filled) the director proceeds to rehearse in the most difficult or dramatic scenes, or if this is not considered necessary, a reading is arranged, at which the story is read to all the cast by the director, who explains it scene by scene. This initial get-together of actors and director also is important in other ways. It serves to break the ice, as it were, to get acquainted and to stay acquainted. It allows the director to become familiar with the persons with whom he must work. It allows the actors to become acquainted with the director's personality, that personality which is to be instrumental in exposing their personality. At this first meeting, it is well for the director to make his first impression favorable by assuring the cast that he knows what he wants and that he is going to get it. The greatest mistake amateur directors make is not securing the cast's confidence and respect, for unless this confidence and respect is obtained, there will be arguments, delays, and even perhaps complete disbandment. The director must be a good judge of human nature, and above all, a diplomat. His business of working with human nature demands that he know human nature. A director who has the ability to speak well and express himself clearly will find that the battle is half won. The other half of the battle, the basic prerequisites of direction, is merely the ability to understand a thing correctly, and to be able to make some one else understand it. Originality, leadership, persistence, experience, and dozens of other virtues are necessary to the successful director, but they all center around the fundamentals of understanding and explanation. It doesn't necessarily stand to reason that to tell one to do a thing, one must be able to do it himself, but it certainly helps. There is nothing so provocative as after trying to explain to an actor how a scene should be done, she flares up (it's usually a she) indifferently walks off the set and announces that she would like to see you do it. Provocative . . . and embarrassing, unless you can do it. Explanation by demonstration is a very handy accomplishment to have tucked away at one's beck and call. Perhaps this question presents itself. Just what should a director know? To begin gently, a director should know everything. He should know exactly the procedure of the dramatic motion picture from the very beginning of the embryonic idea in the writer's cerebrum, right down to the re-scrapping of the silver from discarded prints. This doesn't mean that one must be a mental wizard to be able to tell Aunt Minnie to register fear, but if one is to take this directing business seriously he must know what to expect of his technical mediums and of his co-workers. Tempo, that old bugbear whose name frightens even the amateur, is perhaps the greatest single factor of importance. To bad tempo is attributed the defeat and downfall of many a film, which in other ways would be quite commendable. And this, mind you, is nobody's fault but the director's. His duty as a director commands that he regulate the tempo of a scene in accordance with the dramatic demands. Many people think that bad tempo means that the action is slow and that the picture drags, causing a loss of interest. This situation is quite possible, but not quite characteristic of what tempo means. Poor tempo might mean that there is a distinct lack of smoothness from one scene to another ; that in a scene of uniform dramatic intensity the tempo of the various shots is un-uniform. It might mean the speed that a player walked across the room was too fast to suit the dramatic mood. It might mean that the cutting of adjacent scenes and splicing thereto (Turn to Page 26) THE lens that brings great ideas to life Special effects which baffle photographic technique— and are therefore shelved as "impractical" — are brought to life with the B & H Cooke Varo lens. Because of its almost miraculous ability to "zoom", it accomplishes subtleties and ingenious dramatic transitions not hitherto possible. At F 3.5 the range is from 40 mm. to 50 mm. ; at F 4.5 from 40 mm. to 85 mm., and at F 5.6 and F 8 the full "zoom", from 40 mm. to 120 mm., is obtainable. 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