The Film in France

After visiting England, Germany, and Italy, W. Stephen Bush finished up his 1913 European trip with a stay in Paris. This is his letter from Paris, which deals briefly with exhibition in Paris, especially the Gaumont Palace.

The Film in France

By W. Stephen Bush

Paris, June 11, 1913.

Contentment and prosperity are the dominant notes in the kinematographic world of France, though of course there is no millennium, and at least one great and just cause of complaint. It is an old story that the burdens of the industry fall most heavily upon the exhibitor, and France is no exception to the rule. The government of Paris and of most of the large cities of the country exact a toll of ten per cent. of the daily receipts of the exhibitor “on behalf of the poor.” Every time and exhibitor opens his show the government is right there with its black-coated official, who in a both of his own supervises the cash, counts off ten per cent. “for the poor” and takes the money with him every night. This method of collecting the taxes “for the poor” is not only somewhat despotic toward the exhibitor but likewise decidedly annoying to the public, for after you have bought your ticket at the box-office you have to appear before the seat of the official, generally situated in the centre of the lobby, and you cannot get in until he gives you his approval. The government also tells the exhibitor how many officers he needs for the purpose of keeping proper order, and these officers, and these officers, absolutely useless in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the exhibitor has to pay out of his own pocket.

United Interests

In spite of these hampering conditions the exhibitor is prosperous because the popularity of the pictures is greater than ever, and the number of theaters is constantly increasing. The day before I left Paris the great organization, which in France embraces manufacturers, exchange men, scenario writers, operators and exhibitors, met at its annual banquet in the Salle des Fetes to discuss things and to celebrate and to be happy and brilliant in the accepted French way. Ah! But there was the eloquence and the great applause every time. Monsieur Millevoy, a member of the Chamber of Deputies and a politician of some note, wagged his silver tongue and said much of the educational value of the motion picture. All the moguls of the French trade were there. M. Charles Pathe, Lumiere Freres, Max Linder, Nadar, Provost, Landry and very many others. A most interesting speaker was M. Benoit-Levy, who regretted the absence of the Minister of Education or some equally prominent statesman, who had sent his secretary instead of attending himself. He said, amid great applause, that the time will come when every government of the world will be anxious to have the moving picture for a friend and an ally, and when an invitation to attend a banquet of the organized motion picture interests will be deemed and honor and a privilege. There is one pleasant feature well worth mentioning in connection with this banquet. For the first time in the history of the French kinetamotograph the daily press of Paris had seen fit to devote considerable attention to the event, giving it in most cases due prominence on the first page. This is belated recognition when one considers how many million francs are invested in this industry in France.

The Three Great Names

Three names dominate the field of kinematography here and I give them in their alphabetical order: Eclair, Gaumont and Pathe. Among them they divide the French and indeed a goodly portion of the Continental market. With the notable exception of the Vitagraph films, which seem to lead American films in Europe almost everywhere, there is comparatively little sale of American-made films in France. It looks as if the motto were: French films for French audiences. Today mighty few films are sold in France, for the simple reason that the biggest firms, Eclair, Gaumont and Pathe, do no longer dispose of their reels through middlemen but deal directly with the exhibitor, to whom the films are not sold but merely rented. Of the foreign films sold, the Americans are well in the lead, with Italy a good second, while Germany looms up a distant third.

How They Show Their Pictures

As to the art of exhibiting pictures I cannot say very much for either Paris or France. There are, of course, some wonderfully fine show places, notably the Gaumont Palace and the Pathe Palace, where perfection is the order of the day. The Gaumont Palace, seating abut 6,000 people, is probably the largest and most successful moving picture theater in the world, with a scale of prices soaring up to somewhere near the dollar mark. The theater was well filled on the warm night in June when I visited there. I have seen some exceptionally fine projection in my day and have known many operators who were past-masters in the science of giving good light and a steady picture, but I never saw anything to surpass the projection in the Gaumont Palace. Even the most critical eye could not help being delighted by this picture—steady, always steady, without even the faintest trace of a tremble or a flicker. The most perfect order prevailed in the audience and what there was of vaudeville was tolerably good.

Outside these show palaces, however, the projection in Paris was generally poor and the pauses between the reels about ten times longer than even the most patient of our audiences would endure without plenty of hostile demonstrations. The service of the attendants and the music fall below the English and German standards. An American manager would get nervous prostration over the frequent breaks in the film, but here it does not seem to make any great difference to the public. I am inclined to think that the French exhibitor often cares more about a fine display outside than the show on the inside. I went, for instance, to the “Colisee,” on the Champs Elysees, one of the new and widely advertised theaters, in a very nice section of the city. For a fair seat I paid two francs. There is many a show on the lower East Side in New York with less pretense and far greater merit. The vaudeville shown was of the anthropoid variety which prevailed in many sections of our own country just about four years ago. The cheaper places are correspondingly worse.

Visit to Three Great Studios.

Of the studios I visited in Paris and its vicinity, none is more charmingly situated and better adapted to every need of the kinematograph than the Eclair plant at Epinay sur Seine, just outside the city limits. The grounds and a lovely chateau were purchased from a famous French naturalist, M. Lacepedo, who spent many years there. He had selected the place with a view to a leisurely pursuit of his studies, and what was well chosen for this admirer of nature was not ill chosen for the kinematograph, which is one of the secretaries of nature. The grounds cover about forty acres, of which but a small portion is occupied by the studios and the mechanical departments, while the rest consists of splendid and happily varied natural scenery. The Eclair Company [180] never leave its own premises to produce films—water, fountain, terraces, groves, romantic bits of forest or meadow—in fact, all the charm of outdoor scenery is found at home. The Eclair Company is now working on a new sensational feature in which it used the facilities of its outdoor studio to the uttermost, and I was told it would be better than “Zigomar.”

The Gaumont Company’s studio, like the others, is out of the city, and it is indeed a little community in itself, with a name of its own—Elge City—in honor of the initials of its founder, M. Leon Gaumont. What is most striking about this establishment is the spirit of “camaraderie”—good fellowship, which pervades every branch and characterizes every employee in every branch. This spirit, at once so agreeable and valuable, takes its source in a sense of deep and sincere loyalty to the chief of the great firm, M. Gaumont, who, at the time of my visit to his Parisian studio, was with characteristic energy demonstrating some of his new ideas to the public of New York. He has somehow imbued his staff with an ambition to do things well and to go forward without ceasing. The enormous plant of Gaumont’s now employs on an average of a thousand people, and from the last to the first they are capable, alert and industrious. As in every other establishment, I was fortunate in my guide. Mr. L. R. Aylmer, an Irishman who speaks French like a Frenchman, conducted me through every part of the works. Mr Aylmer, who is the “Chef du Service Cinematographique Societe des Establishments Gaumont,” is an ardent admirer of THE MOVING PICTURE WORLD, and especially of the Projection Department. He told me that he has often acted as official government examiner of French applicants for operators’ licenses, and he says he found Mr. Richardson’s hints full of the most practical value. He wanted me to thank our apostle of projection on behalf of France. A glad hand is waiting for F. H. Richardson at 57 Rue St. Roch, Paris. The Gaumont plant has been described in THE MOVING PICTURE WORLD before, but as this happened some years ago it is necessary to add that it has expanded in every direction and that as quantity has steadily gone forward, quality has never lagged behind. As a piece of Gaumont enterprise I might mention that they had the picture of the banquet of the moving picture men ready for exhibition within a few hours of the event. Manufacturers had it projected for me on the screen, and there surely was enough motion in it to make it suitable for a kinematographic reproduction.

The Pathe studio, which are partly in the ancient town of Vincennes and partly in Joinville, are most difficulat to describe. Everything has been planned and excuted on a gigantic scale, and it would take a giant’s pen to do the subject justice. Going through the various departments of the Pathe works is much like going through some great and world-famous gallery or museum—the human mind is limited in its ability to absorb impressions and properly digest them, and ordinary minds like my own begin to tire after four or five hours of steady exertion in watching and listening. Indeed, I should have given up the attempt of making a complete tour of Pathe works had it not been for the encouraging words and the ability to explain which is possessed in no small degree by M. Schoenmbaum, a young Alsatian who had been in America and who is an accomplished linguist. In the office of the great establishment on the Rue de Vigneros, I had the pleasure of meeting M. Charles Pathe and Mr. J. A. Berst, who happened to be in conference. They expressed in terms of great sincerity their pleasure at the opportunity of giving the readers of THE MOVING PICTURE WORLD some idea of their work here. Here indeed the workings of the kinematographic industry are displayed from Alpha to Omega. The Alpha is represented by huge qualities of sacks containing a white powder-like substance, which is the foundation of all film and which, according to my guide, is scientifically labeled “acetate de cellulose.” This raw material is found in varying qualities in all organic matter, and is therefore obtained easily and cheaply, It is not often that Nature throws out any very distinct hints to our intelligence beyond those we need to exist, but right here it seems is an unmistakable sign of the enduring character of the film; it is common almost as the air, and Nature locks it from none. I followed the white powder through the various stages of its chemical birth as a strip of film. I saw the powerful solvent kept in big iron casks. I saw the acetate and solvent mixed in numerous tanks and I saw the wheel upon which the mixture begins to take on the shape of film with which we are familiar. What infinite care was needed at every step, how difficult it seemed to guard the delicate embryonic substance against the rude intrusion of the light, of which even one strong ray or sudden glow would work decided havoc.

They have a system of tests which makes it, humanly speaking, impossible for one foot of defective film to leave the factory. The vast lengths are sent to every Pathe factory in the world, every inch is carefully marked and checked, and if any complaint comes home it is a matter of five minutes to trace every had which had anything to do with that particular section of film. I remember that even years ago it used to be a common saying among exhibiters that a Pathe film gave most excellent wear and long service. I have ceased to speculate as the reason for all of this, for even half an hour’s visit at Vincennes will make it clear. There is an educational and scientific department in the Pathe studio just as there is in the Eclair and Gaumont plants, and all three are intelligently active, though there seemed to be no effort to follow any definite system which might supply or at least supplement the textbook in the schools. Professor M. J. Comandon, a learned, capable and courteous gentleman, is engaged in interesting biological work in the Pathe kinematographic library. His work is almost entirely microscopic. As I will deal with the status of the educational picture in Europe in the course of another article, I must for the present content myself with this passing reference to one of the most promising aspects of the educational kinematograph.

The whole plant at Vincennes, vast as it is, belongs entirely to the negative production, while all the positive work is done at Joinville. Both at Vincennes and at Joinville one is struck by two things—the exceeding cleanliness of every part of the plants and the fact that so many employees of the company have held their present positions for many years. It is quite common to meet employees who have been with the firm since the very start. A merit system of the fairest possible type is in use. As a result, there are no “clock watchers” in the Pathe employ. Ambition and talent are encouraged at every step. There is a special department of invention and research, and this department is always busy, and in the words of my guide, “it has its ear wide open all the time.” Any workman who offers any practical suggestions for any kind of improvement will find his envelope somewhat bulkier than usual when Saturday comes around.

There is on the premises at Vincennes a large, well-lighted building which is labeled “Societe des Auteurs et Gens de Lettres,” in our idiom a sort of meeting place, where the “littery fellows” assemble on occasion and talk over the question of dramatic kinematography in general and with reference to their scenarios in particular. Authors are present while scenes from their plays are [181] being enacted, and there is no doubt many a friendly discussion which tends to make a better picture. Some of the choicest literary spirits of France belong to this society.

Censorship No Problem in France

There is no censorship in France—voluntary or otherwise. The public censor the pictures, and manufacturers and exhibitors are pretty clever in anticipating the taste and judgment of the public. Of course, the French taste is wholly different than ours, but there are well-defined limits which are observed with commendable consistency. A well-known exhibitor told me that there had been no interference on the part of the police or the legislators except two years ago when some misguided person wanted to show the details of a public execution on the screen. He was quickly stopped, and a law was enacted forbidding the portrayal of public executions in moving pictures. Censorship presents no problem in France. The industry here is about to grow, the picture is immensely popular and theaters are being built constantly. Conditions are likely to continue just as they are now.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “The Film in France,” Moving Picture World 12 July 1913, 179-81.

Notes from Italy

Compared to his accounts of London and Berlin, Bush devotes little space to exhibition in Rome, and doesn't mention the musical practice at all. Overall, he seems not to know what to make of the country. He discusses the Italian film industry at length, but seems a bit perplexed by its uneven quality. He also notes that unlike England and Germany, American subjects do not play well in Italy.

Notes from Italy

A Lesson in Italian Kinematographic History—Italy a Poor Market, but Features Bring High Prices—Exhibitors and Their Leagues—Theaters and Projection—Visit to the Cines.

By W. Stephen Bush

Rome, May 29, 1913

In the history of the kinematograph in Italy there is much to cheer and comfort the friend of the motion picture. No other country furnishes ampler proof of the fact that the palm of success and the crown of merit go to the producer who is not afraid to aim high and whose appeal addresses itself to the intelligence, the good taste and the more sense of the public. In the beginning of things kinematographic in Italy the producer had on the one hand the advantage of extraordinary opportunities, while on the other hand he was beset by great temptations. His opportunities lay in the natural beauty of his county, in the weather and the climate. Nowhere has Nature set up a more glorious and complete studio than in this most favored of lands. He had the precious opportunity of becoming the interpreter of a deathless and most interesting of civilization. By means of the new invention which by reproducing motion gives the most perfect imitation of life, he had it in his power to show to the whole modern civilized world pictures of the life and culture of ancient Rome. He had but to set up his camera with the right intention and his very surroundings would furnish him with the inspiration needed to produce great films. His was and is the home of art.

In Rome and all through Italy are the plentiful remains of the arts which have created imperishable beauty, which to the end of time will delight the eye and stir the heart. All the vast treasure of art and of knowledge and of history and of literature which is heaped up here in richest profusion was at the constant and immediate service of the moving picture camera. Here was the birthplace of two civilizations of the greatest importance—the civilization of ancient and of Christian Rome. Here were born two of the richest and most expressive languages; here these languages reached their highest perfection, and here they served as the means of expression to some of the greatest minds among mortal men. The source of much which we still teach in every school of the world is here. The priceless heritage of Greece was often transmitted to us through Rome. It is hardly necessary to allude to the part which Rome and Italy played in the history of Christian civilization. If ever there was in the best sense of the word a paradise for the ambitious and intelligent producer it surely was in Italy. It was in the power of the Italian producer to place before the world in clear and living pictures what all the schools and text books of the centuries could do but imperfectly. If the producer chose to strike the educational chord and do some homage to the Muses of History and of Poetry and of the Drama, his success seemed to be assured. He had the world for an audience, for Rome and Italy had been the themes of countless poets and writers and teachers in various tongues for more than two thousand years.

Great, however, as his opportunities undoubtedly were, his temptations were no less great. First, there was the cry of that old, owlish, parrot-like chorus: “The moving picture is not here to instruct and educate, but only to amuse and entertain.” With all their fossilized arguments these parrots can never succeed in talking the educational value out of the motion picture. There was, however, a greater and plainer temptation in the path of the Italian producer. This consisted in the very potent fact that in modern Italy the taste of the public is decidedly low. Indeed it verges on the morbid and the on the vulgar.

Education here is still very far from being universal; even the most superficial of observers must recognize all around them the effects of centuries of political oppression and superstition. This is not the place to go into the causes of low taste and vicious instincts—I only state the fact and place it among the temptations which confronted the producer. If he took a narrow view of his opportunities it might well seem to him that the road to fortune must lie in playing down to the tastes of the vulgar. “To get the crowd” in Italy it was neither necessary nor advisable to put art and high ideals in his films.

Now when they came to the parting of the ways there was a sharp division among the producers. Three or four chose the road which for the moment seemed harder and less profitable, while the others chose the path with a downward trend, but with seeming assurance of immediate financial gain. To the former we owe many of the great masterpieces of filmdom—“The Fall of Troy,” “The Last Days of Pompeii,” “Dante’s Inferno,” “The Odyssey,” “Jerusalem Delivered” and “Quo Vadis?” In publishing such films the producers achieved a reputation the fruits of which brought them not only honor, but rich material rewards. They set a splendid standard not only for others, but chiefly for themselves. They gave assurance to every exhibitor of a high average quality in even their minor productions.

What of the other and far more numerous producers, who carefully kept away from the educational and the classic to cater to the lovers of the cheap melodrama? There are a score of them and perhaps more, but who out of Italy hears of them to any great advantage? They cast their lot with the “crowds” in Italy and now they are lucky to sell on an average three copies in Italy, with an occasional print for the French, Spanish or South American market. In our country and in Canada mightily little of their stuff is sold, and the buyers are generally sorry. It is quite true that the Italian market for the sale of films is the poorest in the world, and that even the best firms sell at the most five or six copies of their regular releases, whatever they may be able to do with the big features. It stands to reason then that the Italian producer depends very largely on his export. He could not live without the markets of the English-speaking countries and of Germany and Russia.

Italy is a poor market for the sale of American films—with one notable exception. The films of the Vitagraph Company are very popular here. The agent of the Vitagraph is selling as many films as the best native producers, and I believe at a little better prices. Maurice Costello is a name to conjure with in Italy. His recent tour through Italy, including a visit to the Cines studio in Rome, has been much like a tour of triumph. He was cheered in true Latin fashion when he showed himself to the people in the “Lux Et Umbra,” one of the principal moving picture theaters in Rome. The other American brands, with the possible exception of the Bison, are sold but little. Perhaps more might be done with other American films, but Italy at its best does not compare with such markets as England, Germany and Russia. Even little Holland and Belgium, orphans in the House of Motion Pictures, lag but little behind Italy. Of the great Selig film, “Christopher Columbus,” only seven copies were sold in the land of Christopher Columbus. Edison is represented in Genoa and the well-known exchange man Barattolo, who owns theaters in Rome, Naples and Turin, and who is a member of the Neapolitan City Council, is the agent for Selig and Kalem. Rex and Solax are in the hands of the Vitagraph agent; while all other American producers are sold via London. To revert for a moment to the financial advantage of turning out high quality, I might say that, according to statements published by themselves, both the Cines Company and the Ambrosio Company paid dividends of 11 per cent. in the past year.

The renting situation is curiously mixed in Italy. The supply of first runs greatly exceeds the demand, helping to accentuate competition. Daily changes of program are unknown except in one or two theaters in Napes. Pathe, Gaumont, Éclair, Cines, Ambrosio and Vitagraph are trying to place their first runs in Italy at the same time and the result may be imagined. Pathe, Éclair and Gaumont refuse to sell to middlemen and will deal only with the exhibitor directly. This, of course, causes quite a little friction. The renters are fighting Pathe and the end is not yet.

The multiple feature film has added to the confusion of the market. Very high prices are paid for “State rights.” Italy is for this purpose divided into five parts: Piedmont with Turin for its center, Lombardy with Milan, Veneto with Venice, Central Italy with Rome, and Southern Italy, including Sicily with Naples and Palermo. For the new Ambrosio film, “The Last Days of Pompeii,” for instance, the buyer for Southern Italy and Sicily paid 40,000 francs. This is more than some of our biggest States have brought for some of the biggest features. As a natural result the single reel suffers, being relegated almost entirely to the smaller towns.

The theaters in the largest city of Italy, Naples, are small. Outside of Rome there are few moving picture theaters with [1230] a large seating capacity, and in Rome there is but one with 1,500 seats. Licenses are quite low and the opening of theaters is free to anyone. The regulations for the safety of patrons are easy to the point of laxity. With the excitable nature of the Italians, a panic in one of even the medium-sized theaters might cause a terrible disaster. Prices of admission are almost as low as with us, ranging from six cents to a rare maximum of 30 cents. The average Italian moving picture house compares most unfavorably with the average theater in England, America or Germany. It recalls Mulberry Bend and Little Italy in Harlem in the days of the early Italian immigration. The odor in these places is penetrating, but far from agreeable. Chairs are poor, the attendants are normally sleepy and insistent for tips when roused into a state of passing wakefulness. The projection even in the very best theaters is not much, and in the average theater it is intolerably wretched. Clear, sharp and distinct pictures, and an even, steady supply of good, strong light are positively unknown. An Italian translation of Richardson’s handbook is one of the crying needs of Italian operators, and I have taken the matter up with an editor of prominence.

The personnel of the average exhibitor is better than one might expect. He is generally inclined to be progressive, but he seems incapable of understanding the advantages of one great and strong national organization. Concerted action by the exhibitor would count for much more here in Italy than, for instance, in Austria or Germany. Italy is a more democratic country and public officials are much quicker to respond to public demands. It is to be much deplored then that the Italian exhibitors cannot be united in one organization. There are at present two leagues of exhibitors and, what is worse, they are fighting each other instead of turning their faces against the common enemy. If the one league commends some measure to the government as beneficial to the industry, the other league comes along and adopts resolutions strongly condemning the proposed measure.

Italy has little just cause to complain of censorship. The power of censoring pictures was until recently exercised by the local authorities of each province, but not it is vested in a branch of the Ministry of Justice at Rome and its decisions are valid for the whole kingdom. To an American all censorship is of course odious, but the Italian censorship is very mild, with a semi-occasional fit of rigor.

I will carry away from Rome one very pleasant recollection: that of a long, instructive and very enjoyable visit to the splendid Cines establishment just outside the Porta San Giovanni. The grounds of the Cines studios cover 56,000 cubic metres. Of their six different studios there is but one for which artificial light is used and this studio is used but rarely, mostly indeed for the production of light effects and a species of a higher sort of trick photography. Four companies were at work when I visited the studio in the company of the courteous Signor A. Meille, the private secretary of the general director, Baron A. Fassini. The baron received the visit from a representative of the Moving Picture World with every evidence of pleasure and extended innumerable courtesies. He and indeed all of the staff and the artists of the Cines are ardent readers of the paper and the supply of copies is never large enough to go around. This saying of the baron and his secretary was a most handsome tribute to the international value and importance of the paper, and on behalf of the readers of the Moving Picture World I conveyed to him our sincerest appreciation.

The excellence of Cines photography is easily explained by the magnificent natural light which is at the disposal of the Roman producer at least ten months out of twelve. This light is dry and extremely clear. I noticed many things that seemed interesting and useful in the industry. They have most of their cameras fixed to a pivot-like arrangement on the ground. This makes it possible to turn the camera easily without disturbing it. I saw a ball scene with lots of dancing taken in this way and it impressed me as a new and useful innovation. Of course, the mechanical and shipping departments were up to a high standard, but the story of the Cines plant would not be complete without describing the large number of special departments which are to be found on the grounds. These work of these departments is unique and greatly helps explain the artistic success of the Cines films. Outside of about twenty compartments, each about 20 x 150, where the movable scenery is kept, there are two large buildings which are occupied by special departments, such as the manufacture of hats and the making of costumes. There is a perfect arsenal in which weapons of every age in all conceivable shapes are found, there is a floor devoted to woodwork and carving, larger quarters for the scene painters, a smithy and a most interesting department of pottery. All these things are kept with the greatest care and are in charge of capable men and women.

The department for the making of costumes contains well nigh ten thousand suits and dresses. It covers every period in man’s and especially woman’s history, form the famous fig-leaf to the hobby-skirt. Every period in history has its separate and carefully marked lockers. I was struck with the fine gowns of the French revolutionary and the Napoleonic periods and was told that the Cines have a great Napoleonic play under way. The same careful and scientific division characterizes this arsenal. Everywhere indeed are evident the traces of experts, the hand of the scholar and the historian has been at work. The pottery was a most instructive department. The men employed are adepts and as they have the best models of the world for almost every style of pottery they turn out a splendid grade of work. Art, system, study, hard work and capable direction characterize the conduct of every one of the departments.

I had the pleasure of meeting the director of “Quo Vadis?” Signor E. Guazzoni, a very modest and affable gentleman, who is thoroughly absorbed in his work. He had troubles of his own the morning I visited Cines, for he was trying to make a huge python do the right thing before the camera in connection with a version of “Cleopatra,” which the Cines will shortly put on the market. I also had pleasant chats with all the artists in “Quo Vadis?” except Nero and Petronius, who are not regularly with the Cines.

The very important cities of Turin and Milano I expect to see to-morrow, and as they are the film centers of Italy and the studios of Ambrosio and the Milano Film Company, will no doubt offer much of interest to our readers. There will be a second letter on Italy.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “Notes from Italy,” Moving Picture World 21 June 1913, 1229-30.

Conditions in Germany

From London, where he posted three articles, W. Stephen Bush traveled to Berlin, where he was not much impressed with the governmental regulation, censorship or tax situation. He also found the German film producers to be on the whole very provincial. On the other hand, he had high praise for the exhibition, especially the musical practice.

Conditions in Germany

The Horrors of Government Supervision of Picture Theaters Described—American Pictures Favored.

Berlin, May 4, 1913

No just estimate of the conditions in the German film industry is possible without taking into account the attitude of the German government toward the maker and exhibitor of motion pictures. The great amusement trust in Germany is the government. Practically two-thirds of all the theaters, and actually all the theaters in the big cities, are managed by financial agents of the government. Within recent years just about the time motion pictures began to be popular in our own country, there was a sharp advance in theatrical prices. From popular prices, averaging about 60 cents, the scale was raised to an average well exceeding a dollar. A good seat in any of the first-class theaters of Berlin is not to be had to-day for less than two dollars and fifty cents and there are plenty for three dollars and more.

At this moment appeared the motion picture. The thrifty Germans gave it an enthusiastic welcome. The exhibitors were wise enough not to go too far below theatrical prices, but just far enough to become formidable competitors. Prices ranged from 25 cents to one dollar, with a few seats at a dollar and a half. At once a very desirable patronage was transferred from the high-priced theater to the moving picture house. Small theaters started up all over the city, but the government treated them with contempt.

It was not long, however, before one after another of the old legitimate theaters changed from the drama to the moving pictures. Presently new theaters were built rivaling in comfort and luxury the best of the legitimate houses and showing “straight” pictures to crowded houses. Now the government took the alarm. It was estimated that one big theater had taken in over $120,000 in one year. Perhaps the estimate was too high; but, at an rate, it was large enough to excite both the envy and greed of the government. The latter had two ways of coping with the situation—its weapons were censorship and taxation. We need not be any too proud of the position which the showman occupies in the eyes of our own law, but he is a pampered individual indeed when compared with the German showman. The government issues its edict and fixes a rate of taxation strictly to suit itself and with no thought of the probable fate of the exhibitor. I questioned a number of exhibitors and moving picture experts here and they agree that the government takes about twenty per cent. of the gross receipts of the exhibitor. The taxation begins with every ticket which is sold at 10 cents and the ratio increases rapidly as the tickets increase in value. I do not think there are half a dozen moving picture theaters here charging as low as five cents, but many have now gone to 9 cents just to avoid the tax.

Even the tax, however unjust and arbitrary as it seems to be, has failed utterly to hurt the popularity of the pictures. The government therefore used the bludgeon of censorship. The principles and methods of German censorship baffle description. They violate every rule of fair play and ignore the plainest mandates of equity. Prussia is a semi-despotic country; there is supposed to be a representative government, but it never goes any further than the police allow. From infancy the Prussian is taught that the serious business of life is to drill and be drilled. Implicit and unreasoning obedience to whatever the paternal government is pleased to ordain is second nature with the average subject of the Kaiser.

I asked an editor here: “If the police censor the pictures who censors the police?” and he could not understand. The “divine right” business is paying big dividends in Germany.

Censorship is not only severe, but hopelessly stupid. The producer takes his film to a police official who orders a couple of hundred feet cut out. No reasoning is possible. The producer who would contumaciously argue the point with the police official might be arrested and dragged off to jail for insulting a representative of the government. I understand that an appeal is technically possible, but it is attended with so much red tape and so great an expense that the remedy is about as bad as the disease. There is no system in this censorship. The whims and the temperament of an individual decide.

One of the most notorious enemies of the motion picture is a man known as Professor Brunner. He calls the motion picture a “national peril” and arranges public meetings in which the motion picture, the producer and the exhibitor are denounced as public enemies. This is the very man who has been asked by the police to assist in censoring the pictures. He does not want to compromise with the pictures; he wants to destroy them.

To mention just one example of the depths of stupidity of German censorship. The Gaumonts have released a series of “comics” showing the adventures of a little boy. The government censored these pictures and suppressed several of them because “they seemed to encourage rebellion against parental authority.” Pictures showing the most sordid and revolting conditions of the underworld and others chiefly dealing with the seduction of poor working girls by dreadful employers are passed without question.

It is a little short of marvelous that, despite all these handicaps, the picture thrives here better even than England. The chain of first-class moving pictures with large capacity and every possible improvement and convenience is constant food for wonder. The Cines Company and “Al” Woods, the American theatrical manager, own most of these theaters and are making them pay. All this is due to the American-made picture, without which no program is deemed complete. Almost all American manufacturers are represented in Berlin and if comparatively few of their products are advertised in the trade journals the cause must be sought in a well established market which takes care of itself.

American pictures suffer comparatively little from the censor. For the audiences here the screened description of American life, American customs and manners, American men, women and children seem to be specially attractive. While we often discriminate against foreign pictures, the foreigners seem to be prejudiced in favor of our pictures. American comedies are in great demand.

This demand for American pictures has set the German manufacturers thinking. They are looking for the secret of our success. They realize that their product must, in quality and from a moral point of view, seek to approach American standards. Some have hired directors with American experience and others are looking for American directors and willing to pay the price. At present not one of them has a studio of his own. Studios are hired by the day or week and the expense is often shared by a combination of two or three producers. Only one or two of the manufacturers have permanent staffs of actors. As a rule, their product is good in photography; some of their artists are capable, but the differences in taste and the demands of German audiences make very many of the German pictures ineligible for the American market. The German audience revels in detail. A death scene is reckoned a great sentimental luxury, which may be prolonged ad libitum. All “weepy stuff” is relished and must not be cut. Action is not deemed as important as sentiment. The German is cosmopolitan enough to find a source of wonder and delight in the foreign, especially the American picture, but he does like the native product best when it seems “to the manner born.” It must also be remembered that in spite of the effective educational system which prevails in all Germany the people outside of the cities are like most people in Europe—well contented to move in old conventional grooves. They have simple tastes and very little pleases them. They are the very opposite of critical. With these audiences almost any picture will make a hit. This accounts for an awful lot of trashy things, wretched photography and simply impossible in all other respects.

There are two things which are done much better here than on our side. I refer to music and to methods of presentation generally. Berlin has motion picture theaters in the finest parts of the city, which are wonders of artistic architecture and scientific management. When you enter one of these theaters, like Mozart Hall or the Cines Palace or the Kammer Spiele, you feel at once that you are a guest and the object of pleasing attention. The corps of ushers is well distributed and well trained. The visitor gets the idea that he is receiving individual attention. He is guided to a spacious and comfortable chair or a box; he gets a program for 2 cents and the usher either marks his program or tells him what picture is on the screen and how far it has run. If he wishes any kind of refreshment special waiters bring it at once and the price is very reasonable. There is a receptacle for glass or cup convenient to every seat. Your hat and coat are taken care of for a nominal sum. There are no swift or sudden changes from darkness to light or vice versa. The lights come on gradually and go out gradually. No noise from the operator’s booth ever gets to the ears of the audience. All seats are reserved and numbered, the higher the price of admission the further away from the curtain. The attendants are courteous to a fault. The interior of Mozart Hall reminds one of an opera house (not “opr’y house”), in its comfort and luxury.

The crowning achievement of the German theater, how- [900] ever is the music. Orchestras of fifteen and twenty pieces are not uncommon. The musicians are artists led by capable and experienced directors. The slightest detail is looked after. Every important psychological moment in the drama is effectively elaborated by the music and when a climax comes music aids motion in a most acceptable manner. I admired their music for comedies; it always fitted like a glove. No subject puzzles the musical director. I should imagine that music for a subject like the Ohio flood was not easy to select, but the accompaniment in the Cines Palace was strikingly adapted to the scenes on the screen. Awkward pauses are unknown. Nor are the show places the only ones exhibiting this fine regard for musical possibilities. The thing is typical of all moving picture theaters—large and small. Of course, the weekly change of program favors a proper selection and rendition of music, but I found that the music was just as good the first day of the program. I am firmly persuaded that the musical feature of the entertainment goes a long way toward reconciling the public to the big prices.

I cannot say much for the projection, which is on the whole little better than ordinary. All European pictures seem to be printed on poor stock and often reminded me of those terrible non-inflammable films which we saw in the latter part of 1909. Few films I saw were in perfect condition. The only exceptions ere some of the feature films.

The film market in Germany is in a most bewildering condition—confusion worse confounded. Pathe and Gaumont are dealing with exhibitors directly, releases are by no means regular and then there is the exclusive film, generally a feature of three, four and five reels sold on the State rights or world’s rights plan. I was told that “Quo Vadis” was rented at 10,000 marks ($2,500), for two weeks; another sensational film fetched a rental of 17,000 marks (over $4,000), in Leipzig, for a period of one month. There are a number of independent directors who form temporary alliances with distinguished artists of the big legitimate theaters and sell negatives to certain syndicates. This, to, helps to bedevil the market.

The exhibitors are well organized in Berlin and other large cities of the empire, but the national union is not strong and has but little influence. They are, as far as I have been able to observe, an intelligent body of men, with a proper realization of their responsibilities. They are greatly alarmed just now at the threatened action of the government, which in addition to levying an exorbitant tax, intends in October to take up the question of exacting a special yearly license. If this plan is carried out many places will have to close. The government will treat the theaters like we treated the saloons under the old high license system. If no proof of their necessity is forthcoming no license will be issued and of the necessity the government will be the sole judge.

In spite of all present troubles and allowing for further displays of hostility on the part of the government, I predict a great progress in Germany. There are only about 3,000 houses in the empire now, but I would not be surprised to see this number trebled in a year or so. There is no reason why this market cannot yield as fine returns to the American producer as the British market. Nothing more is needed than ordinary American energy and a proper understanding of the conditions.

For the benefit of other American moving picture men who may hereafter be tempted to visit here, I venture to set down a few observations which will, I trust, help them to understand some of the native customs. I must take special notice of the German elevator. In its normal state the German elevator dwells in sacred seclusion. It is strongly and safely locked up and the possession of the key to the elevator is the last and crowning emblem of janitorial dignity. When uncouth foreigners like myself wish to use the elevator—natives refrain from it out of regard for its sacred character—notice is given to the janitor, who in the exercise of a sound discretion may or may not admit the applicant. In any event, the news that the elevator is about to be used travels rapidly through the neighborhood and soon crowds of small boys and girls assemble and witness the unlocking and ascending of the elevator. The elevator ascends with imposing dignity and often attains a speed of a floor a minute. When you get out, the elevator immediately descends and is again locked up. If you fancy that upon topping the bell the elevator will re-ascend and brig you back to the ground floor you have a great lesson to learn. In the first place there is no bell. In the second place the elevator is not to be lightly molested. It has taken you up—please expect no more, walk down. What a sublime example of patience our German friends are setting us here. In the mad rush of elevators “up and down” we often are betrayed into violent comments on the slowness of the elevator service and are prone to speak rudely to the elevator man or the starter. We thus frequently compromise our dignity. Our German cousins would much rather walk down than imperil their philosophical calm.

I would also warn you away from what the Berliners call their circular system of suburban transit. It is fair, but false. Apparently it casts three and a half cents to ride in any direction of a distance of four stations. In the cheaper cars it is only 2 ½ cents. Naturally you feel elated. At this rate you can ride continuously for a year and never touch your savings bank. You ride, say a distance from Grand Street to 14th and blithely walk off, giving the ticket taker your ticket and a look of a hauteur. He sternly orders you to halt and explains that you have gone one station beyond the limit of your ticket. Thinks begin to look black. Passengers gather and view you with ill-concealed suspicion. Nobody has a kind word for you. You really begin to lose sympathy for yourself, when another uniformed railway employe leads you to a ticket office where you have to pay an additional 7 ½ cents. You mentally retract all you ever said about the Interborough and thereafter trust yourself to taxis, which are quite cheap. Marvels of cheapness are the electric stages. For two cents you can ride indefinitely. I agave a conductor three cents, for which I was rewarded with about a dozen rapid military salutes. I then tried him with four cents and he ignored every other passenger on the car for the rest of the journey. No doubt I could have bought the car for a dollar, but the cost of transportation might have killed my profit. The conductor gazed after me with wondering eyes and a last salute. I am only a poor film man, but I am always willing to do my share in sustaining our reputation as a nation of reckless spenders.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “Conditions in Germany,” Moving Picture World 31 May 1913, 899-900.

W. Stephen Bush in England

As noted in the 3 May 1913 issue of Moving Picture World, in April W. Stephen Bush had sailed for Europe to investigate the state of the industry in the principal European markets: Great Britain, Italy, Germany and France.

Mr. W. Stephen Bush, of the editorial staff of The Moving Picture World, is making a business tour of England and the Continent. He sailed April 12th, and will remain abroad from six weeks to two months inspecting productions and making a study of the European market generally. It is expected that Mr. Bush will contribute some interesting stories upon the various phases of the motion picture business in Europe as presented to his critical eye for the benefit of readers of The Moving Picture World.

Source: “Facts and Comments,” Moving Picture World 3 May 1913, 463.

Through the early summer, Bush sent back detailed reports from the various cities he visited. Almost all of these reports contained descriptions of his visits to the local moving picture shows. Though Bush tended to visit the higher class theaters in each city, the comparisons he offers do give some sense as to how exhibition differed by country.

His first installment on the state of the film industry in London was published on 10 May 1913 and it is reprinted below.

Yankee Films Abroad

An Interesting Budget of Information on
Picture Conditions In Great Britain.

Written on the Spot by W. Stephen Bush.

If you want to realize what can be done with American-made films, do not fail to come to London. If you happen to be an exhibitor it might pay you to come and see, and then go back and put your experience into dollars and cents.

There are, indeed, in some of the very cheap sections in the East End, moving picture theaters where they charge as low as 1d. (2 cents) and 2d. (4 cents), but in the West End the prevailing price of admission is 6d. (12 cents) ranging upwards to as high as 10/6d. (2 dollars 62 cents). English capital which is hopelessly shy about supporting any film producing enterprise, is remarkably eager to invest in moving picture theaters or "cinemas" as they are called over here. The concrete and immediate strongly appeal to the British mind. While through the lack of financial support, English film making enterprises languish like an exotic plant on unfriendly soil, the city is dotted with modern superb moving picture theaters. I will not attempt on such short acquaintance as I have, to theorize about this, and to explain why the London exhibitors are generally prosperous and the British manufacturers generally poor, while the renters too are coming in for some of the cream. Perhaps the open market has something to do with this. Perhaps the liberal patronage of the London public may help to explain it, and perhaps it is the superior method of presentation or perhaps it is due to a combination of all these factors.

In the West End Cinema, where I attended a moderately good entertainment last evening, consisting of six reels, the scale of prices was as follows:

Orchestra Seats in the Rear 50 cents.
Orchestra Seats nearer the Curtain 25 cents.
Second Balcony 25, 35 and 50 cents.
First Balcony 60 and 75 cents.
Private Boxes $2.60.

At 10 o'clock the house was crowded. The seating capacity was only 800, but that is good enough with such a scale of prices. The furnishings were of a high order throughout. There was an invisible orchestra, which played music suitable to the pictures. Please take that word "suitable" in its actual, and not in its American or Pickwickian sense. No doubt the music had been carefully rehearsed, as it invariably struck home at the psychological moments. I have a painful recollection of an orchestra in New York engaged in an effort to follow the pictures with suitable music, and frequently coming to a dead stop at precisely the wrong moment, closing, for instance, with a crashing finale just a minute before the climax of the play on the screen. The highest price in the New York theater was 15 cents. I will leave it to the reader to draw his own conclusions. I characterized the program as moderately good, and barring the luxurious surroundings, the splendid music and the perfect management, I have seen moving picture entertainments at home a grade better than this, and charging no more than 10 cents. Again I leave the reader to draw his own conclusions which lie on the surface.

It is evident to even the inexpert eye that the exhibitor has a decided say in the moving picture industry hereabouts. Both the renter and the manufacturer respectfully consult his wishes. The progressive London exhibitor with possibly two or more theaters has his "viewers" or "selectors" scouting about projection rooms, and when the "viewers" or "selectors" commend something to the exhibitor, the latter suggests to the renter the purchase of the film, and as a rule the renter accepts the suggestion and acts upon it. The exhibitor's freedom in the selection of his program is absolute, and because he is able to grade his service according to the character, and demands of his audience, he gets the crowd, whether he is in a fine residential section or in a rougher neighborhood, or in a location where he depends on the transient trade.

Mr. Seymour Hodges, the Manager of the Marble Arch theater, admittedly one of the finest in England, was quite emphatic on the subject. "If," said Mr. Hodges who had had theatrical experience on our side, "we had to depend for our supply of film on just one single group of manufacturers we would soon suffer. The present arrangement enables us to select just what we think our patrons like best." The splendid crowd in the Marble Arch theater at 10 o'clock p. m. seemed to indicate that this particular exhibitor at least knew the tastes of his audience. Music, projection, management worked co-operatively toward absolute perfection, nor were there any first runs. The backbone of the particular program was an Edison subject, which an American friend at my elbow had seen at St. Louis three months ago, and which must have been in England at least a week or two. If the American film of today continues to hold an easy supremacy over the rest, it is due largely to the good judgment of the British exhibitor. There are not a few somewhat irresponsible men in the exhibiting business here, especially in the City of London, who have a small place, and can never under any circumstances, see one inch further than the entrance to their theater. But for them, the exhibitors organization in this country, would be a deal stronger than it is. These men, however, care nothing about the common weal and are stumbling blocks in the path of progress. The larger exhibitors, on the contrary, are keenly alive to the fact that harmony and co-operation make them strong and powerful, and they are well united. The result is, that they have a pretty free hand in the selection of their programs, and I think that helps to explain their success and prosperity. But a short time ago, there happened to be a short and sharp conflict of interest between the exhibitors and renters on the one hand, and certain manufacturing interests on the other. No attempt was made by any of the parties to the conflict to resort to "steam-roller" methods, there were amicable conferences, and a final agreement to disagree on certain matters and to re-unite on others. The liberty of the exhibitor to arrange his own program as long as he pays for it, remains in full force and vigor.

The only films which seem to appeal to the British public are the products of either purely American or partly American films. It is a high compliment to American-made films that they are hardly ever objected to by the Censor. The very fact that they are of American origin seems to create a presumption in their favor. I have seen a few French and German films, which would drag down almost any program to either the level of licentiousness or stupidity. The unadultered or rather unpurified French products are apt to rouse the ire of the Censor, while the ordinary German melodramatic films, mostly in two or three reels, have value only as an unfailing antidote for insomnia.

I have heard and read a whole lot about the superior projection in the capitals of Europe, and as far as London is concerned I have seen much actual proof of it. Projection varies here too, some of it is good, some of it indifferent, and some of it awfully bad, but the average is high. The trade conditions are far more settled here than they are on the other side of the water. There are no daily changes of programs here. Programs are changed twice or three times weekly, and this applies to the cheap as well as the expensive theaters.

It is a pleasure to relate that the educational film is doing well here in London. I have just had a long talk with Mr. Chas. Urban of the Kineto Co. Mr. Urban who is known on both sides of the water as one of the earliest pioneers in the educational field. He has retired from the Urban Trading Co., and is devoting all his energies to Kinemacolor, and educational kinematography both in natural colors and in black and white. I learned from him that the London County Council have had a plan of kinematographic instruction under consideration for some time. They wanted to add a kinematographic course of instruction to the program of the Polytechnic schools and after viewing a large variety of films submitted by the different manufacturers they arrived at the conclusion that the Kinemacolor would probably lend itself best to moving picture instruction. They have just completed an agreement with Mr. Urban, which provides for a trial of educational films extending over a period of six weeks. The conditions and details are as follows: At each one of the six Polytechnics (industrial schools, teaching. Carpentry, Machinery, Telegraphy, etc.) there are to be four exhibitions per day, each lasting from 45 to 50 minutes, each of these exhibitions are to be attended by classes of 1000. This means that there will be an attendance of 4000 children per day, or 20,000 per week or 120,000 for the entire period of the experiment. Children of all grades will be asked to attend these exhibitions, and the teachers intend to ascertain the value of kinematographic instruction by carefully questioning each child. If the results thus obtained are satisfactory, machines are to be installed at once. There is no question that this would then be the entering wedge for a general kinematographic course of instruction in all the schools of England, both public and private.

Mr. Urban tells me that he had a most interesting visitor in the person of a gentleman named Margunrien, who was authorized by the Greek Minister of Education to inquire in London as to the supply of educational films. He brought with him a letter of authorization, which I think will often

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be quoted by the future historian of kinematographic education. The document sets forth the fact that there are 4000 schools in the Kingdom of Greece, and that the Greek Minister of Education desires to make a thorough test if the moving picture as a means of teaching the young mind. It goes on to state that the Minister does not know how much of a supply there is on hand at the present time and he assures Mr. Urban that he will be able to absorb and utilize almost any supply that may be on hand at this moment. The Greek representative has had numerous interviews both with Mr. Urban and his General Manager, Mr. Hickey, and the probabilities point to a large order of machines and films. Mr. Urban will construct a special model of machine, which will generate its own electricity, and take a standard size of film. It seems probable then, that Greece, the mother of education, will be the first to make practical and general use of the new invention in schools of the modern Kingdom. Mr. Hickey will leave for our side with a large supply of black and white educational films on May 6th.

Mr. Urban was in a reminiscent mood, as he talked and recalled the early days of kinematography, here and in America. He spoke with some feeling of a memorable trip he made to our side of the water in the winter of 1910. He came with hopes running high, banking, as he said, on promises, which were not fulfilled. He spoke in grateful words of the assistance and encouragement which the late founder of the Moving Picture World extended to him. Mr. Urban has now been in London for 18 years and his enthusiasm in the cause of education still remains unabated. He is firm in the belief that eventually the moving picture as an educator will in importance far surpass the moving picture as a form of amusement.

Passing through Cecil Court, otherwise known as "Flicker Alley," I noticed the sign of "Warner Feature Film Co.," I walked in and found Sam Warner in full charge. He has been here for about one month, and has had a busy time of it familiarizing himself with conditions, and with the various denominations of British currency. He thinks this is an ideal market for an enterprising American picture man and he is going at full speed all the time. He is the latest American invader.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “Yankee Films Abroad,” Moving Picture World 10 May 1913, 573-74.

The Future of the Single Reel

This article by W. Stephen Bush is not concerned with music or sound at all. But it is an illuminating account of the situation with respect to transition from single reel to multireel (feature) production in 1913. At least in part because the distribution system for features differed somewhat from that of the single reels (following a complicated system of state's rights rather than a general release to the film exchanges), features were often shown in venues other than motion picture houses, including legitimate theaters, which had higher prices and more elaborate traditions of accompanying dramatic presentations. Even when motion picture houses chose to put on features, they tended to treat the feature as something special and augment the number of musicians or include a lecturer. As some of the ads that have been posted suggest, the production companies encouraged more elaborate accompaniment by commissioning scores for special features, a practice that had been tried on and off for a number of years. (Click on the Vitagraph ad on the right to see that the company had begun providing music for all its special features in March 1913.)

The Future of the Single Reelby W. Stephen Bush
Less than three years ago the single reel held absolute sway. Old moving picture men will easily recall the wonder expressed in film exchanges, when the Pathe "Dreyfus Case" was released. This splendid feature ran but a couple of hundred feet over one reel and the short end had an old-fashioned "comedy" for a running mate. Exhibitors were puzzled as to how it should be put on, but most of them guessed right and waited awhile before they let the tear-stained climax of the tragedy be followed by the farce. Nobody then thought much about features and the possibilities of the multiple reel. "The Fall of Troy" was among the early features consisting of more than one reel.

Then along toward 1911 multiple releases became more frequent, but they were still looked upon as exceptions, and there were few indeed who then anticipated the coming rise and development of the multiple feature reel. Multiple releases were given to the exhibitor in installments, the continuity of the subject to the contrary notwithstanding. In that shape they were anything but welcome to the exhibitor, who had to hear frequent complaints from his audience because subjects of multiple reels were split up and often released at intervals of a week and more. When producers at last began to heed the demands of the public and the repeated urgings or this paper and decided to release multiple reels on one and the same day there were many vaudeville houses which sandwiched acts of vaudeville into reels treating the same subject. We mention all this just to show what a novelty the feature reel was in those days and how long it took for producer and exhibitor to properly adjust themselves to the new conditions.

On June 17, 1911, The Moving Picture World said in its editorial columns : "The present upward trend of the moving picture could not be shown more strikingly than by grouping together the titles of the following films released recently or about to be released : 'The Fall of Troy,' 'A Tale of Two Cities,' 'Enoch Arden,' 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic,' 'The Maccabees' and 'Faust.'" We prophesied the further rapid development of the feature films in the same article in these words "It is * * * characteristic of the present higher ideals that of the subjects above mentioned one consists of three reels and two consist of two reels each. The two and three reel subject is indeed a necessary product of the higher ideal. It is bound to come, and in two or three years it will be the rule rather than the exception in all dramas."

Events have literally verified this prediction. I believe that on the whole the quality of the feature reels has been above that of the single reel, though the feature reel has lately gone to inferior sources for its material and inspiration. The fond hope that the feature and the higher ideals would become synonymous has not been entirely fulfilled. European productions especially have too often departed from the higher ideals in the selection of subjects for multiple reels.

With the feature still holding the center of the stage and with every prospect of continuing to hold it for many years to come the question will occur to every exhibitor: What is to be the future of the single reel? The studios and equipments of every producer who issues regular releases every week is especially adapted for the making of single reels. The great fortunes in the manufacturing branch have in the last five years been made through the production of single reels. To the men who supply the staple of the exhibitor's program the feature is, as a rule, a thing most difficult of achievement. They look at the film situation from an angle wholly different from that of the feature men. It is well nigh impossible to put out a weekly supply and at the same time astonish the film world with wonderful features. There are some producers, not too many of them, who have foreseen the coming triumph of the feature and who have prepared special facilities for the production of features, entirely separate and distinct from their equipment for single reels. Such producers are the exceptions rather than the rule. The great majority of manufacturers will for a long time to come be dependent for their financial success and their artistic reputation on single reels.

It seems plain that the diminished demand for single reels will suffer still greater diminution unless the average of quality in the single reel takes a quick and decided turn for the better. In the regular single reel issues of certain producers there is about as much variety and interest as in the links of a chain of sausages. When one remembers to what heights of artistic achievements the industry rose in the days of the exclusive reign of the single reel, it is strange that there has been so much retrogression.

It would be easy to recall instances of splendid single reels. Take for example the old Shakespearean series of the Vitagraph Company, which no multiple Shakespearean reel since made has ever been able to approach in dramatic power and condensation ; take the famous old Biographs such as "Pippa Passes," "The Greaser's
Gauntlet" and scores of others, which were the delight of the public and the exhibitor. The old companies still release an occasional fine single reel, but on the whole even their single reel issues have shown meager quality, while of the newer companies scarcely one can lay claim to even a fair average of quality in the single reels. Originality of invention and dramatic power are sadly lacking.

We hope the day will never come when the single reel can be considered as little more than a "filler." There is to say the least as much chance for a display of directorial skill in the making of the single reel as there ever was. No matter how many features may be produced hereafter and how good such features may prove to be, the single reel will continue to be the backbone of the motion picture show. That show will in the end be judged by its single reels. If these are given over entirely to the exploitation of cheap comedy and cheap melodrama it will be a sorry day for the exhibitor and the public.

The coming of features consisting of eight reels and even twelve reels will undoubtedly have a tendency to decrease the demand for the single reel. Such features will establish new standards in kinematography. If the difference in quality between these very big productions and the every day single reel release is too pronounced it is not at all improbable that the single reel will lose in popular favor and will be relegated to the very cheapest of motion picture theaters. There is but one way to prevent this. The single reel must conform to higher standards. Its place in the kinematographic procession must not be too far in the rear of the modern feature of many reels.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “The Future of the Single Reel,” Moving Picture World 19 April 1913, 256.

Special Lectures on Notable Films (II)

W. Stephen Bush published a lecture on Pathé's The Birth of Christ (1909) in the same issue of Moving Picture World as he did La grande bretéche. Because the biblical story would have been extremely well known, this lecture did not need to supply the same type of information with respect to plot and motivation. Bush therefore offered an extended quotation from the first chapter of Luke for the first scene, and suggested using Christmas hymns to fill out portions of scenes III and V.

Bush, like other regular contributors to Moving Picture World, advertised his services regularly in the pages of the trade paper. This particular ad dates from the 15 January 1910 issue.

The Birth of Jesus.
Released by Pathe Freres December 24th.

Scene I.

When in the fullness of time God had decreed to redeem mankind, He chose as the instrument of salvation a spotless Virgin, Mary, dwelling in the little village of Nazareth in Galilee. There at eventide Mary returns from the fountain, where she has drawn water, and seeking the seclusion of her chamber, she bends her knees in prayer to the Lord, when presently there appears unto her a messenger from the throne of the Almighty and addresses her in these words of sweet and tender promise: “Hail thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women, though shalt conceive and bear a child, which shall be called Jesus. He shall be a King in Israel and of His Kingdom there shall be no end.” The archangel having delivered his message, Mary arose and exclaimed: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to Thy word.”

Scene II.

Bethlehem! A name of magic sound. The city is thronged with people and soldiers, for a decree has gone forth from Rome, then the mistress of the civilized world, that all the people of Palestine shall be counted and taxed. Mary and Joseph belonging to the tribe of David, have left their home in Nazareth and after passing through Galilee, and Samaria at last arrive in the city of their royal ancestor David. The journey has been long and hard as Mary feels that her hour is drawing nigh, Joseph looks about for a shelter in the night. He applies to one of the inns, but alas, every inn in Bethlehem is crowded and overflowing and they are turned away, when in their distress a little child comes to their rescue and directs them to a stable, now forever famous, just beyond the walls of Bethlehem.

Scene III.

Hallowed and gracious were the days the heralded the coming of our Lord. Signs and wonders were seen in many parts of the world and in the eastern sky, near Bethlehem, shone forth a wonderful star. (Here interrupt the lecture and render a suitable song, such as “While the Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night,” until the title for

Scene IV

appears on the screen, when you resume the lecture as follows:)

Close in the wake of the shepherds, now on their way to the stable, likewise following the star, came the magi, wise men from the East. They, too, in their far distant lands have seen this great, strange star, telling them of the birth of a new King of Israel. They are now on their way toward Jerusalem to ask Herod and his scribes and priests, where, according to ancient prophecy, the new King of Israel was most likely to be born. And they bear in their train many precious gifts to lay at the feet of the new king—gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Scene V.

Every door in Bethlehem is being barred against them, Joseph and Mary at last find refuge in this most humble of abodes, and here, in poverty, in a manger, even on a bundle of straw, there is born into the world the new King of Israel, Jesus Christ. (Sing here one verse from the hymn, “Come All Ye Faithful” and then resume lecture as follows:) And as you see the golden glitter of the star shines again above the crib, so likewise does the star shine again unto wise men from the East. They have been to Jerusalem and there they have learnt from Herod and his priests and scribes that the new King of Israel was most likely to be born in Bethlehem in Judaea, as foretold by the Prophet Micah. And the star has again appeared before them and they are now on their way to the stable. (Here end the lecture and bring the picture to a close with one or two more verses, sung or played, from the hymn, “Come All Ye Faithful.”)

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “Special Lectures on Notable Films,” Moving Picture World 8 January 1910, 19.
Image Source: Moving Picture World 15 January 1910, 60.

Special Lectures on Notable Films (I)

This is the first of two lecture texts that W. Stephen Bush published in Moving Picture World at the beginning of 1910 for films released in December of 1909 by Pathé Frères. As both texts contain performance indications ("Order appears on the screen"; "Here interrupt the lecture and render a suitable song"), the lectures were clearly intended to be read as the film was running.

Bush's text for his lecture to La grande bretèche (1909) is primarily descriptive: it supplies names of characters and specifies some background information that might not be evident to those who do not know the story. Bush also clarifies the plot situations by providing motivations for character actions and, toward the end, by adding dialogue.

La grande bretèche was a Film d'Art based on a short story by Balzac. This story was also the basis of D. W. Griffith's The Sealed Room, which had been released in September of the same year, and Vitagraph's Entombed Alive, which was released in October and starred Annette Kellerman.

La Grande Breteche
Pathe Film of Art. Released December 12th.

After darkening the house this brief and general explanation of the film may be offered with advantage:

La Grande Breteche is the name of a castle in the beautiful and historic French province, Vendome, and made famous by the celebrated French story-teller, Honore de Balzac. It is now nothing but a mass of ruins and weeds, but at the time in which the story is laid, it was noted for its wonderful flowers and gardens, a fact, which in the running of the film, will be observed by you with pleasure.

As soon as this preamble is finished and the moment the title is flashed on the screen, the following lecture may be found useful:

Scene I.—The first picture takes us back to the time of the great Napoleon. In the war which he had waged against Spain among the many captives was a noble prisoner, Count Ferredia. An adjutant from Napoleon’s military staff has come to Vendome and is now calling at the office of the sub-prefect, announcing the coming of the Spanish Count. The latter, a perfect type of the young Spanish grandee, enters and the adjutant hands the order concerning the prisoner of war to the assistant in charge of the office. (Order appears on the screen.) The assistant reads the order which commands him to exact his parole from the Spaniard and obeys by asking the latter for it. Slowly, proudly the parole is given, the prisoner is politely dismissed and leaves, while the adjutant continues his report to the assistant sub-prefect.

Scene II.—A scene in front of the splendid gardens of the Grand Breteche, where the people gather evenings to play and promenade. The Spanish Count is in the throng, and presently observes with unfeigned admiration a strikingly handsome woman promenading with her maid. She is the wife of the sub-prefect, accompanied by her maid. She has lost the fragrant white rose she carried and gallantly the Count picks the precious flower from the ground and with a graceful bow hands it to the wife, who regarding the prisoner with ill-conceived favor, bids him with her eyes rather than her words to keep the flower. The adjutant and the assistant pass at this moment and meet the sub-prefect himself, Count Merrett, the husband of the handsome woman. All this has been quickly observed by Ferredia, who asks the assistant for an introduction and is thereupon introduced both to the prefect and his wife.

Scene III.—In the gardens of La Grand Breteche the Spanish prisoner and Countess Merret are sowing the dragon seed of sin at many a secret meeting, guarded by the faithful Rosalie. It was well to have her on the watch, for she has time to give the lovers warning, the Spaniard disappears with the maid through a rare path in the shrubbery, not a moment too soon, for it is evident that beneath the husband’s formal politeness there lurks suspicion. He finds it strange to see the wife in the gathering darkness busy with needlework and when she, still hoping for another glimpse of her lover, hesitates to come in, he forces her with scant ceremony to come with him.

Scene IV.—Two masons from the village have been ordered to do some work about the castle and have come for further instructions as to where to begin. (Short pause.) Count de Merrett, more suspicious than ever of his wife’s fidelity, now seeks to test it. He pretends to go away on a journey and the Countess falls unsuspectingly into the trap. When the clumsy, stupid masons have at last been gotten rid of, the wife sends her maid with a message to Count Ferredia asking him to come to Grande Breteche at once. (Message appears on the screen.)

Scene V.—The message has been delivered, the maid signals to Ferredia hiding in the bushes and at the very moment appears in a different part well able to watch all the Count Merrett. The latter observes with bitter rage how the Spaniard is admitted into the house, cautiously walks over the lawn observed only by the clownish masons, who little realize what tragic part they will soon be called upon to play.

Scene VI.—The maid brings the happy lover into her mistress’ room, he fervently kisses her hand, but is uneasy at the presence of the maid, who, however, is presently dismissed from the room. Their cup of happiness seems full, she, gently restraining his ardor, takes his mantle and hat and hides it in the closet next to her room and then returns to her lover. He sees a small crucifix on her bosom and she, to show him her love, takes it from her neck and gives it to him. He in turn bethinks himself of an ancient crucifix of silver and ebony and offers it to her, but in the impatience of his affection lays it on the table to devote himself to his new found love.

Scene VII.—Faithful Rosalie is guarding her mistress’ door, an evil office and an useless one as the event will show.

Scene VIII.—The lovers have drunk their fill of the cup of sweet venom, the lover draws the trembling hands of his mistress from her glowing face, turns the key and still lingers.

Scene IX.—Rosalie still on guard is found and pushed aside by the enraged husband, now sure of his prey and trembling in his eagerness for revenge. (Short pause.)

Scene X.—The knocking at the door strikes terror into the guilty lovers—they start and tremble and in their confusion they retain enough presence of mind to hide the Count Ferredia in the closet.

Scene XI.—A moment later the furious husband bursts into the room. No one there but the wife. He turns here and there, the wife is pale but self-possessed, he starts for the closet, she bars the way, the husband is in doubt as to his next step, when his eyes fall upon the crucifix on the table. “Who is in the closet?” he cries. “Speak.” “No one.” “No one? Then swear to it now on this crucifix.” “I swear.” Scarcely have the words dropped from the woman’s faltering lips, when the husband summons the maid and orders her to bring the masons into the room at once. “I will show you,” he says to the wife, “how much I trust in your words.” The masons come and are ordered by the Count to wall up the closet and do it at once and in his presence.

Scene XII.—The ill-starred prisoner is in an agony of suspense—he only can fear and suspect, when the blows from the masons’ tools rouse his worst fears. Are they digging his grave in which he must die?

Scene XIII.—Still the husband watches the work with feverish attention, the maid announces a visitor. He keeps his eyes on the work—at last he rises. Hope for one brief moment flames up in the Countess’ breast—“Here, take this, money, gold, jewels and more later, break a pane in the door. Be quick about it. Quick.” One of the masons does as he is bidden and the Count peers out, the terror of death in his eyes—the sub-prefect returns, summons the masons back to their work.

Scene XIV.—And now the dim light of the closet has turned to darkness and in the darkness of death the prisoner gropes about, every moment making it clearer to him that he is to die within the narrow walls.

Scene XV.—The work of the masons is complete, they have gone. Never for a moment does the remorseless husband change his cold, formal politeness and bows to go.

Scene XVI.—Scarcely has he gone, when the wife seizes a pick to free the lover.

Scene XVII.—But the husband suspects this. He runs back, seizes the wife, crying out: “Madam is ill, she must to bed and it is my duty as her husband to stay right here with her.” Suiting the action to the word he has his slippers and his house cloak brought into the room and makes himself ready for a long stay. She rises on her couch begging the husband to believe her and go and he tells her he believes her and that’s why he stays.

Scene XVIII.—Count Ferredia realizes that his end has come and dies with a last look at the fatal crucifix.

Scene XIX.—The doctor, called to attend the wife, after a brief examination, pronounces her speedy dissolution very probable and, after a world of sympathy to the husband, leaves.

Scene XX.—In her dying moments, quite forgetful of the presence of the stern husband, with the precious token before her eyes, the wretched wife strives and struggles with a last effect to rise and gathering all her feeble strength together, seeks with faltering steps the wall of death and gently, with the last remnant of her life, strikes the cross of silver and ebony against the cruel stones—a glance at the husband, still unbending, and she falls over—dead.

Scene XXI.—And separated from her but by an inch or more of stone lies stark in death the partner of her guilt.

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “Special Lectures on Notable Films,” Moving Picture World 8 January 1910, 19.
Image Source: Film Index 4 December 1909, 11.

The Human Voice As a Factor in the Moving Picture Show

Below is another article by W. Stephen Bush arguing for the value of the lecture. Here he takes specific aim at varieties of the "talking picture," by which he means both those that use mechanical synchronization with a phonograph as well as those that place live actors behind the screen to supply the dialogue. It is significant that Bush sees both methods of providing a "synchronized" voice as less than optimal, which also means that he must argue against the idea that film should ideally be simply a recording of reality. Yet he also ends up arguing against a cinema of illusion.

Notable is Bush's citation of a French critic's response to the the inaugural Film d'Art, L'assassinat du duc de Guise (1908), which famously had a special score composed for it by Camille Saint-Saëns. If we assume the critic attended a performance of the film that used Saint-Saëns' score, the critic's lukewarm response and insistence that the medium of film needed supplementation by the human voice tells us that music alone was, at least for some prominent cultural authorities, not yet deemed sufficient for full artistic expression of the film medium. For a thorough discussion of Saint-Saëns' score, see Martin Marks, Music and the Silent Film: Contexts and Case Studies, 1895-1924 (1997), 50-61.

Most of our knowledge and a good deal of our pleasure and entertainment is imported to us by eye and ear. All public amusements appeal to eye and ear alone. It is indeed impossible to move mankind through the drama, to instruct it with knowledge, without the aid of both these senses, and as a rule no entertainment or amusement is complete or truly pleasing without these channels to the soul combined. These are, of course, exceptions. It is possible to enjoy music without seeing the musicians (sometimes this is the only way of enjoying it), and a man may listen to the solemn and inspiring strains of an organ without looking to see whence the sound is coming. Likewise a good pantomime may be enjoyed without a sound of any kind. As a rule, however, the burden of absorption soon becomes too heavy and tiresome for the one sense alone: the eye demands to be satisfied as well as the ear, and the ear becomes eager to share its burden with the eye.

In some vague and wandering way this fact was felt from the very beginning of the moving picture, and numerous have been the attempts to supply sound, and especially the sound of the human voice. Our poor and patient English tongue has been subjected to cruel and unusual punishment in an effort to find names for both the inarticulate and the articulate sound in the moving picture show. At one time a craze for effects infected the electric theaters and instruments were devised to imitate common sounds. There was a little success and much failure, and there is to this day, and there always will be. Then came “cameraphones,” synchronizers” and “talking pictures,” produced by men and women hiding behind the screen and endeavoring to “make the pictures talk.” Not one of these devices has solved the problem: What is the proper function of the human voice in the moving picture show? The trouble in all cases was the inability to produce a perfect illusion. Illusion is pleasing only when it is without a flaw. The ventriloquist with his dummies upon his knee pleases and amuses the audience with his illusion, though of course everybody knows that the sounds and voices are produced by himself and that the dummies are nothing but painted pieces of wood and rags. As soon as the illusion is broken the thing becomes tiresome in the extreme. Even, however, where the illusion is perfect, a little of it goes a good ways. It is very much the same with all the vaunted devices, summed up in the fitting name of “talking pictures.” In the first place, the illusion is hardly ever perfect, and even where it is nearly perfect it cannot hold the attention long, for the whole business is unnatural, and nothing that is unnatural will ever last long, though persistent and reckless puffing may give some of these contrivances a fleeting vogue.

It may be that the voice best suited to the moving picture is the voice that runs with the picture, not with the individual figures in a silly attempt to imitate their very words, but the voice that runs with the story, that explains the figures and the plot and that brings out by its sound and its language the beauties that appear but darkly or not at all until the ear helps the eye. Take any dramatic or historic picture; in fact, almost any picture, barring magic and comic subjects. Stand among the audience and what do you observe? As the story progresses, and even at its very beginning, those gifted with a little imagination and the power of speech will begin to comment, to talk more or less excitedly and try to explain and tell their friends and neighbors. This current of mental electricity will run up an down, wild, irregular, uncontrollable. The gifted lecturer will gather up and harness this current of expressed thought. He has seen the picture before, and convincing his audience from the very start that he has the subject well in hand all these errant sparks will fly toward him, the buzz and idle comment will cease, and he finds himself without an effort the spokesman for the particular crowd of human beings that make up his audience. What all feel and but a few attempt to express even imperfectly, the lecturer, if he is worthy of the name, will tell with ease and grace in words that come to him as naturally as iron obeys the law which draws it to the magnet. All at once the human voice has found its proper mission; the darkened house and the dumb show cease to be a strain to the overworked eye, and as the ear shares the burden the amusement becomes doubly attractive and the period of exhaustion or disgust is deferred. No longer any need on the part of the audience to make loud guesses and supply the voice themselves; the entertainment is complete and the patron feels that he ha seen a different kind of moving picture.

This is felt and appreciated by the well-known Parisian art critic. Cellatier, who in a recent issue of the “Temps” speaks of the picture, “The Assassination of the Duke of Guise,” and who after praising the acting and staging of the piece goes on to say: “. . . But after I had sat there a while and looked at the pictures I felt a great longing to hear the human voice. If this sort of entertainment is ever to stop being a toy and is to become a permanent institution in the amusement world it needs the assistance in some shape or other of the human voice.”

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “The Human Voice as a Factor in the Moving Picture Show,” Moving Picture World 23 January 1909, 86.

When Effects Are Unnecessary Noises

This 1911 article by W. Stephen Bush argues for a much more limited use of effects. In fact, Bush's suggestions, especially that effects be used only if they "have a psychological bearing on the situation," is quite similar to recommendations that he and other writers were making for music at the time.

Originally based in Philadelphia, Bush broke into the business as a lecturer and wrote frequently for Moving Picture World especially on the topics of lecturing, music and ways to improve the cultural standing of the entertainment. He has strong ideas about the aesthetic possibilities of cinema, and I have always found him to be one of the most insightful writers of the period. Besides the many essays he contributed to the paper, he wrote many reviews and later became a contributing editor. He left at the end of 1916 to become the founding editor of Exhibitor's Trade Review.

As a friend of the moving picture and jealous of its reputation with the public, I confess I stand in fear of the average "effects man." Zeal is a most admirable quality, but in the case of the man behind the screen it needs to be tempered with judgment and discretion. As a matter of fact, such tempering of enthusiasm with common sense is rare in the extreme. While the general opinion among intelligent exhibitors holds that the effects were made for the picture, the worker behind the screen believes, that the picture was made for the effects. His desire is, above all things, to be heard, to make as much noise as possible. If the picture shows a man in the throes of death on his bed, he rises to the occasion by making the bed creak. If by any chance, a horse appears on the screen he feels in duty bound to make us believe that a troop of cavalry is riding at full gallop over a hundred blocks of macadamized pavement. At the sight of water, no matter how quiet, he at once lets go of the Niagara Falls effect.

Now effects to help the picture must be few, simple and well rehearsed for each separate and particular picture. The idea, that a set of mechanical contrivances for the production of a limited number of sounds, can be made to fit most pictures or even a small percentage of them, is utterly absurd. The moment an effect is repeated too often, it becomes monotonous, then tires one and at last is ridiculous. Each picture must be studied by itself and only such effects introduced as have a psychological bearing on the situation as depicted on the screen. The imitation of common and obvious sounds has long ago been abandoned by nine out of every ten exhibitors, who, quite wisely will rather dispense with effects altogether than risk monotonous or misplaced or ill-judged effects.

Nevertheless, it is an undoubted fact, that the introduction of suitable effects will at times help a picture immensely. There are scores of pictures that without effects are dull, insipid and meaningless and with effects, thrill, delight and please an audience. Powerful effects may be introduced with equal success in comic or dramatic pictures, even in scenic and educational subjects. At all times, effects must be original, novel, simple, quickly understood and appreciated by the audience. The proper moment for introducing them must be judged from picture to picture and no set of stereotyped rules can be laid down. The dramatic instinct, which resides in the heart of every man and woman, must be the guide and determining factor.

When once a good opportunity for a powerful effect has been discovered, the effect must be carefully rehearsed. A trained monkey can “work” the machine-made effects, but it takes a man with some intelligence to secure correctness and accuracy in original and special effects.

A few examples may help to make my meaning clearer. Let us assume, that we are dealing with a scene immediately preceding a dramatic climax. The climax depends on the coming of a certain hour. Anxiety and suspense are the dominant emotions of the central figure in the scene. At such a moment the slow and measured ticking of a clock may send a thrill or a shudder through the blood of the spectator. It is a very simple thing, an apparent trifle and yet its effect may be overpowering. The sound of musical instruments, played with a special meaning, connected with the action on the screen, may always be imitated with great advantage.

On occasions the fall of a human body or a heavy object may be indicated by proper effects back of the screen, but not every such fall is to be thus marked. Discrimination should be the saving grace of the man with the effects and if he lacks discrimination, as he often does, he should be held strictly subject to orders and given no latitude whatever. Obvious effects, such as shooting, thunder, rain, etc., are, except on rare occasions, to be omitted. The public is tired of them.

Greater license may be given to effects in comic reels, but the vulgarity, which is especially in vogue in New York, should be carefully avoided.

I conclude with a notable contrast between a proper and improper effect and select as an example two scenes from the Milano production of Dante’s Inferno. No scene in that remarkable film is more impressive than the meeting of Cerberus, the three-throated monster by the poets, Dante and Virgil. “Not a limb of him, but trembled,” say Dante in his masterfully descriptive way. Now, to make this mysterious monster bark like a dog in a backyard is laughable and betrays a deplorable lack of the sense of the fitting. The moment the “effects man” converts the fear-inspiring creation of Dante into a common bow-wow, every illusion is destroyed and the thin line, dividing the sublime from the ridiculous is crossed amidst the justly derisive laughter of the audience. Contrast this with an effect in the scene, where the poets enter the circle of the giants, the first of whom is Nimrod, the mighty hunter. In the poem, the sound of a horn is described, as the poets near the circle. If such an effect is introduced, if a horn is sounded, just before the title, introducing the giants is ended, the effect is suitable and impressive, as in the next moment the huge body of Nimrod with a hunting horn around his waist, becomes visible.

There is but one general rule that may be followed with uniform advantage in the matter of effects.

To paraphrase the immortal bard: “Discrimination is the best part of strenuousness.”

Source: W. Stephen Bush, “When ‘Effects’ Are Unnecessary Noises,” Moving Picture World 9 September 1911, 690.