We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
367
When ate dogs actors?
Mostly when they feel like it, claims
this patient home filmer. Here's how you help
CYRIL STEVENS
THERE are a number of more or less practical points to bear in mind before you undertake a picture of the family's pet dog. Individually— and not necessarily in their order of importance — I'd list these points as follows: (1) you should really like dogs; (2) you should really like movie making; (3) you should have a lot of patience, and (4) you should have an understanding family. The last named is perhaps the most important.
Of course, if you are a true dog fancier, you will not (and should not) let these matters deter you. I mention them only as lessons I learned (rather laughingly) in the production of Calling Frisco, a one reel Kodachrome film on our Australian terrier. Since, happily, it was honored in connection with Movie Makers 1948 Ten Best selections, the editors have asked me to advise with you on these matters. But let's not take these so-called "lessons" too seriously.
CREATING CONFIDENCE
Point No. 1 : You really like dogs, of course, or you wouldn't have one in the house. Perhaps what I meant to put across is better expressed as follows. Your affection for and understanding of your pet must be reciprocal with him, if you are to get from him wholly natural reactions. The slightest sense that he is being driven into a silly or unsound action will show immediately in your film. He must, in a word, have confidence at all times.
There is, for example, a rather happy sequence in Calling Frisco where the terrier is playing with his ball. During this action his young mistress bounces the ball briskly on the floor, only to have it end up on the piano keyboard. Frisco (according to my script!) was then supposed to jump up there and retrieve it.
We coaxed him into trying this action several times. But in each instance, as he landed in mid-flight on the piano stool, the stool skittered away from him on the polished floor. Dogs don't like this kind of deceit— and I can't say I blame them. We steadied the piano stool on a small rug.
NO TRICKS, NO PIX
Point No. 2: You should really like movie making. It may seem silly even to mention this one — but the darndest things can happen when you're picturing your pet.
Perhaps the most prevalent thing to happen is nothing. Here's what I mean. There's a certain simple trick that [Continued on page 393]
SIMPLE TRICKS, familiar to your pet, can be enlivened by fresh camera angles and cross cutting.
16mm. scenes by Cyril Stevens
THE REGULAR ROUTINES of a beguiling Australian terrier named Frisco comprise the coverage of Calling Frisco, honorable-mentioned with the
Ten Best Amateur Films of 1948. Cycling scene was a smooth moving camera take from an automobile, with bedside shot capping the day.