Picture-Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

224 The Film Surgeon man must clip the film so that the ensuing action following the explosion will begin again almost before the smoke has drifted away, or the effect is lost. Where dummies are substituted in place of actors, he has to see that the appearance of the substitution occurs at the moment when the real actor and the dummy are in exactly the same position, otherwise the illusion is spoiled. In a picture shown some time ago, in which a dummy was substituted on a ladder descending from a burning window of a factory, the "trimmer" man overlooked the flaw, and the actual picture showed two men suddenly appearing where there had been but one. Sometimes even the plots of plays — or at least the development of the plots — are changed when the picture gets to the trimming room. A picture recently released from one of the big studios was put on almost entirely backward. The film surgeon discovered that by flashing on the last three or four scenes first a decided suspense was created which led up to the climax and made the whole picture much more interesting than the way it was written. The film surgeon eliminates bad film, when spotted, foggy, light-struck, or streaked with "static." This last phenomenon often occurs, especially in cold weather, and is caused by the friction of the film speeding through the shutter of the camera. It creates a spark of electricity which photographs on the negative very much like lightning. Within the past year or so, the trimming department of the moving-picture companies has developed an importance and efficiency which rivals that of any department of the business. Mr. B. S. Dawley, head of this department at the Edison Studios, in New York City, has made a number of original inventions for this branch of the profession. The number system, now in use in nearly all of the studios, was Mr. Dawley's idea. At the conclusion of each scene, a numbered card is held before the camera and the number photographed at the end of the scene. This greatly helps the trimmer in assembling the film in the proper order. As soon as a completed picture, wTith its fifty or sixty separate rolls of film of various length, reaches the trimming room, it is filed away in small numbered racks along the wall, in the order in which the scenes are to follow each other. The trimmer now begins with the roll in the first rack and runs through it, watching for possible cuts, and following any instructions the director may have jotted down on the scenario. He goes through this process with each roll of film, cutting where necessary, and joining the rolls with his cement glue until finally the picture is complete in one continuous film. It is now wound on a receiving wheel, and is ready for projection. An elaborate card-index system keeps track of every picture that goes through the office, the amount of "cutting" necessary, the date, and the names of the director and photographer. Every foot of film is accounted for. It is the magic of the film surgeon that puts the final skillful touch to the photo play that will eventually help to brighten the lives of millions of people. Tucked away in his little office, he scans and clips and pastes. W'ith his scissors and his pot of cement glue, he is not a romantic figure, but he is an important one — probably as important, in his own way, as any in the film business.