The Motion Picture Director (1927)

8 THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR OF HOLLYWOOD February A Dream Come True E iMOST advanced step n motion pictures durinfj he past ten years has taken )lace with the perfection of ‘Natural Vision” photo¬ graph, and stereoscopic projection. Dr. P. John Bergren, Swedish inventor, George K. Spoor, capitalist of Chicago and one of the earh' picture pioneers, and Commodore J. Stuart Blackton, who is now directing this first picture of new type, are responsible for this marvelous invention which experts believe will serve to revolutionize the entire picture indus¬ try. Dr. Bergren came to George K. Spoor in Chicago more than ten years ago with the germ of an idea — and IMr. Spoor, after listening to the inventor’s plea, be¬ came interested. That they worked for those ten long years to perfect stereo¬ scopic projection and ‘‘natural vision” photography, is past history, but that they succeeded is the most interesting and startling news in many moons. George K. Spoor has long counted Commodore Blackton one of his closest friends and while the former Vitagraph owner had nothing to do with the lab¬ oratory experiments, his name was con¬ stantly in the back of Mr. Spoor’s mind whenever a director was mentioned. Thus it is that J. Stuart Blackton is given the honor to bring the first stereo¬ scopic motion picture to public view. Down at the old Fine Arts Studio, where ‘‘The Birth of a Nation” and “In¬ tolerance” were born, this new and won¬ derful dream is coming true. With this natural vision picture we no longer see shadows moving on a flat surface — shad¬ ows sometimes distorted if we sit too far to one side of the theatre — but a per¬ fect likeness as seen in actual vision. Its gift to the screen is the third dimension, depth. We who are accustomed to regulation sets are amazed at the depth and width of those used by Commodore J. Stuart Blackton for “The Flag Maker,” as the initial production is called. There is one set which shows a gen¬ eral store in a small town — a store con¬ taining a post office, a soda fountain and departments selling everything from hats to Ford cars. The commodore, in his white sweater, stands beside the new two hundred pound camera, which he affec¬ tionately refers to as his “whirling bath¬ tub,” and lifts bis megaphone. “Camera !” In the foreground, Bessie Fove and a trio of pretty girls giggle with the clerk at the soda fountain ; Banks Winter, the postmaster, passes out an agricultural journal to an old farmer at the post of hy Ruth M. Tildesley lice window half way down the long store ; Evelyn Selbie and a neighbor match silk at the dry goods counter in the rear, while other small-towners loi¬ ter here and there about the emporium. If this were an ordinary picture made with a standard camera, Mr. Winter and M iss Selbie and their companions would be out of focus while Bessie and the girls were registering upon the silver sheet. But with the magical monster grinding away at the commodore’s el¬ bow, we are assured that every person on the set will be as distinct to the spec¬ tator as he would be if the scene were enacted on a stage In any theater. IF I NNE R ! GEORGE K. SPOOR The natural vision film is twice as wide and one and one-half times as high as ordinary film, and when thrown on the screen the picture is forty-two feet wide, twenty-three feet high and as deep as the eye can see. “We must progress,” observed the commodore, “The old film was marvel¬ ous in its day, but it is hard on the eyes now that nickelodeons have grown into coliseums. Screens have come to look like postage stamps stuck on billboards. It’s taken us ten years to perfect this invention, but we have it now.” Commodore Blackton is one of those who blaze new trails. He was a pioneer in five-reel feature productions, and in natural color photography, and he planned and financed the first fan maga¬ zine. It takes two to handle “Big Bertha,” as the cameramen call their new charge. Major Marvin Spoor, brother of George K. Spoor, and Conrad A. Luperti, who has been associated with Mr. Spoor for seventeen years, share the honor of con¬ ducting “Big Bertha” through her first paces. “After the perfection of the new cam¬ era, one of our first ‘takes’ was Niagara Falls,” said Mr. Luperti, “The thing was hard to get and while we were doing it we had to get right down into the water. We growled to each other, as we slipped and slid about, that nobody could make anything out of this — we couldn’t see much spray ourselves and what could poor Bertha do? But when we saw it on the screen, we gasped, hardboiled as we are. It was so real we felt we could put our hands In it and touch the sparkle of the water! There was a tree in the foreground, but it was no more distinct than the Canadian shore miles across the falls.” Because the director and companv can¬ not see rushes of the natural vision film, there is a Bell and Howell camera on the set, too, which works beside Big Bertha. William S. Adams, who has ground the commodore’s cameras since 1908, is in charge. Adams is also re¬ sponsible for the lighting of the un¬ usual sets. “Bill” is the trouble shooter, the watch dog on the set, for a Bell and Howell camera cannot get the depth on the deep sets or the width of the wide sets, but it gives a general idea of what Is going on. “.My rushes are like looking through the wrong end of a telescope, as there are no close-ups in the new method,” ex¬ plained Mr. Adams, “My camera takes sixty feet of film to Big Bertha’s ninety, so you can imagine the difference.” One especially wide set used contains the bedroom, living room and kitchen of the house where Jane (Bessie Love) lives. Action in two of these rooms was being recorded by Big Bertha while I watched the scene. In the living room, Bessie was learn¬ ing the latest dance steps from Ward Crane, the villain of the piece; in the kitchen, Charlie Ray was washing dishes while Dickie Brandon, Bessie’s small brother “Niles,” dried them. It was like a scene on the stage, for they didn’t move the cameras to show Charlie at the sink, then move them to show Bessie dancing, then close-up of Charlie’s misery, then to a long,shot of little Dickie dancing with the dish towel and sugar bowl to the music he hears from the next room. It was continuous action from the time Bessie admitted the oily villain bearing the phonograph to the moment Charlie passed unnoticed through the living room and went out into the night. “This means the end of the ‘beautiful (Continued on Page 10)