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The Beginnings of the Cinema in England 1894â"1901
Volume Two: 1897
By John Barnes University of Exeter Press
Copyright © 1983 John Barnes
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-85989-955-0
CHAPTER 1
Robert W. Paul and Birt Acres
The founder of the British film industry, Robert W. Paul (1), holds a unique position in the history of the cinema. His genius and talents were such that he combined not only the roles of inventor and manufacturer, but also those of exhibitor, producer and cinematographer. This in itself is a considerable achievement, but when one takes into account that he was also actively engaged at the same time, in the electrical trade as a scientific instrument maker, his versatility and industry appear formidable indeed.
Setting aside those activities concerned with the Kinetoscope and Kinetoscope films, which have been fully dealt with in the first volume of this history, Paul's involvement with the cinema in its more modern form can be said to have begun in March 1896. From then on, for several years, he was to hold the dominant position in the industry in this country. So successful in fact were his first year's operations that for the period 2 March 1896 to 17 March 1897, he was able to declare a net profit of £12,838.15s. 4d., of which £6,585. 8s. 6d. accrued from the manufacture and sale of cinematographic equipment alone.
For Paul, the cinema had become big business and in April 1897, he decided to form a limited liability company under the name of 'Paul's Animatographe, Ltd.' For this purpose a prospectus was circulated in which the aims of the new company were set forth. The capital was to be £60,000in 15,000 ordinary shares of £1 each and 45,000 7 per cent cumulative preference shares of £1 each, the latter being offered for public subscription. The subscription list closed on 28 April, but the result was not disclosed.
The prospectus stated that the Company was to acquire the inventions and patent rights, together with Paul's Animatographe or Theatrograph ('which is causing such wide-spread sensation by the display of animated photographs in the principal places of amusement') and to develop the resources of the invention and extend its present lucrative field of operations in various ways; these were to include: 1) The Manufacture and Sale of Animatographes and Accessories; 2) The Manufacture and Sale of Animated Portraits of Individuals; and 3) Animated Advertisements.
Animated Portraits, the subject of clause two, may sound somewhat fanciful, for it was intended to open studios in London and the principal provincial towns for the express purpose of taking these portraits of the general public and to license country photographers to take negatives to be printed in the Company's factory. A correspondent of The British Journal of Photography had reservations about the idea:
I find it difficult to understand how this idea is to be profitably carried out. The taking of these animated portraits is easy enough, but how are they to be utilised by the sitters? Are the latter expected to possess a projection system, limelight, screen, and all, for the purpose of showing their friends how they look when animated? If so, the idea is surely calculated to be a somewhat costly luxury.
Perhaps it was Paul's intention to issue these portraits in book form, so that the leaves could be flicked over to give the illusion of movement, like the pictures in the common 'flick book'. These pocket kinetoscopes were then coming into vogue and Paul's friend Harry Short was already in the process of forming a company to market his Filoscope.* His plans may thus have included arrangements for issuing these portraits, as well as selected extracts from Paul's regular films. In any case, the basic idea behind Paul's scheme finally found realisation in the field of 'home movies', made practicable by the introduction of sub-standard film gauges, more especially in the 9.5mm and 16mm formats, which first became popular in the early 1920s.
The clause referring to Animated Advertisements, does not of course, imply the use of animation techniques such as cartoons, etc, but simply refers to regular films showing industrial processes or the use of basic commodities in 'lifelike operation' as the prospectus has it. There is no evidence to show that Paul made any such films for advertising purposes.
With the benefit of hindsight, one can say that Paul's Animatographe Limited offered a very sound investment, but at the time this was not so apparent and The Optician for instance urged extreme caution on the part of those proposing to acquire shares. Whilst upholding the good intention of all those responsible for the formation of the company, the journal seems to have had reservations about the future prospects of the film industry itself.
However, Paul's film-making activities during 1897, continued the pattern he had previously followed the year before. A few films featuring music hall turns were made and also two comedies and a drama. But his main output comprised non-fiction films. In the latter class were a series taken in Sweden and Egypt. The Swedish series were photographed by Paul himself. The King of Sweden and Norway*had despatched a courier to London to purchase one of Paul's projectors, with a request that the maker accompany it and see it properly installed in the Palace at Stockholm. This Paul did to the apparent satisfaction of the King, who granted him special facilities during his stay, for taking Swedish pictures. Paul was able to secure several subjects, of which one was of sufficient merit to be retained in circulation as late as 1903. His catalogue entry for that year, reads:
SWEDISH ELECTRIC RAILWAY. An electric trolley car coming through a Swedish pine forest. A very beautiful and clear picture.
Code word — TROLLEY. Length 60 feet. Price 45s
As an electrical engineer, this was a subject which would have had special appeal to Paul and he probably made doubly sure of obtaining the best possible results. Apparently the other Swedish subjects he took were not of a comparable standard and after 1898 were dropped from his lists.
The Egyptian tour (2) was undertaken by Paul's cameraman, Henry William Short, who had been responsible for a series of films taken in Spain and Portugal the previous year, and which had included one of the outstanding successes of the period — A Sea Cave Near Lisbon. This time he does not appear to have been so successful and none of the thirteen subjects he managed to bring back were accorded any special acclaim. Instead, they called forth a rather wry comment from Cecil M. Hepworth in the pages of The Amateur Photographer:
According to a contemporary, Mr. R. W. Paul's photographer has secured a series of kinetographs of the Egyptian Pyramids, among other things. Rather funny subjects for living photographs! One is tempted to ask: Cui bono? Yet animated Pyramids might be worth seeing. The Psalmist says something about mountains skipping like young rams. Perhaps this is a fulfilment of a prophecy.
Perhaps the truth of the matter was that foreign views were no longer a novelty in England, as the field had been extensively covered by foreign producers, in particular by Lumière. To succeed, the films had to be exceptionally well taken and have an intrinsic interest beyond that of the purely exotic.
Paul's other offerings during the year were mostly simple actualities, and included a series taken in Douglas, Isle of Man. The Liverpool Landing Stage, which was probably taken during the same excursion as the Douglas scenes, was sufficiently successful to be included in Paul's catalogues for several years; the 1903 entry reads:
LIVERPOOL LANDING STAGE. A busy, animated scene, showing the departure of the Birkenhead ferries, the bustle of loading steamers, and the hurrying passengers.
Code word — LIVERPOOL. Length 50 feet. Price 38s.
Another film which withstood the test of time, showed the Rottingdean Electric Railway, a subject which must have been of equal interest to Paul as the electric trolley car he filmed in Sweden. This too was included in Paul's catalogue for 1903:
THE SEA-GOING CAR. The Brighton-Rottingdean Electric Marine Car coming through the sea to the pier, and passengers disembarking.
Code word — ELECTRIC. Length 40 feet. Price 30s.
This unique sea-front railway plied the 3-mile distance between Rottingdean and Brighton and ran on rails washed by the sea. The passenger-car was kept clear of the waves by being raised upon stilts, and its rather odd appearance earned for it the nickname of 'Daddy-LongLegs' (3). It was designed by Magnus Volk and opened on 28 November 1896, but in December, was partially destroyed in a storm. It was subsequently repaired and re-opened in May 1897. Paul's film was probably made shortly afterwards.
Among the topical events or news items which Paul and his cameramen covered were the victory of Galtee More in the Derby of 1897; the Prince of Wales reviewing Yeomanry at Cheltenham; the Fire Brigade Review at Windsor; and of course, Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee procession. This latter event was the one upon which his whole resources and attention were concentrated, as were most of the other film producers then active in England. The story of this historic filmic event is fully recounted in chapter 8.
None of Paul's fiction films made during the year, are of particular merit and are unlikely to have matched the standard of the best from France at this time. The vaudeville turns have an intrinsic interest, more especially that of the specialty dancers May and Flora Hengler, since a portion of this has been preserved in the leaves of Short's Filoscope, of which examples are to be found in the Barnes collection and the Kodak Museum (4). Two scenes of the Geisha, the Alhambra success, were specially staged for the Animatographe, but unfortunately no copies of either are known to have survived.
Paul produced one dramatic film called Jealousy, set in a garden, in which a jealous husband is shot; and two comedies — You 'Dirty Boy' Statue Comes to Life, which probably drew its inspiration from the Manneken-Pis at Brussels; and Robbery, in which a wayfarer is compelled partially to disrobe by a ruffian with a pistol. A copy of the latter is preserved in the National Film Archive (5).
Concerning the exhibition side of the business, many of the London music halls continued to engage Paul's Theatrograph as one of the principal items in the programme. Paul's one set-back was the termination of his performances at the Alhambra Theatre, Leicester Square on 27 June, brought about by a dispute with the management over exclusive rights to the Jubilee films, a matter which is more fully discussed in chapter 8. Among the London theatres where Paul's Theatrograph was shown during the year were Sadler's Wells, the Canterbury, Oxford, Paragon, Royal, and Tivoli. The Theatrograph also continued to be exhibited throughout the provinces, receiving favorable notices in the local press. Paul advertisements mention engagements at the Royal Opera House, Leicester, Empire Palace, Sheffield, Theatre Royal, Brighton, Avenue Opera House, Sunderland, Grand Theatre, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Theatre Royal, Birmingham, and in Northern Ireland at the Grand Opera House, Belfast. Regional bookings remained in the hands of Paul's agent Tom Shaw & Co, 86 Strand, London.
By 1897, the general public had grown accustomed to seeing films and there was not the same amount of attention paid to them in the press as had been the case during the previous year when they were still very much of a novelty. We find reviews, such as those published in The Era, no longer make a point of mentioning specific films, but are inclined instead, to review the programme in more general terms, like this one of 10 April:
Mr. Robert W. Paul's Animatographe is a great attraction at the Oxford, some of the views exhibited being new to us, and being very ingeniously and effectively "taken".
This did not apply however, to the Jubilee films, which continued to arouse interest for several months after the event itself had taken place. Many of The Era's reviews for 1897 are taken up with the Jubilee films, with only an occasional mention of the supporting subjects. It is interesting to note therefore, a review published early in the year of a programme at Sadler's Wells, which mentions no less than nine films by Paul, although most, if not all, were subjects he made during the previous year. It might be as well to quote this review at length, since much of Paul's 1896 output was still being shown throughout Great Britain during 1897:
One of the most attractive features of the current programme at this ancient home of the drama is undoubtedly Mr. R. W. Paul's Theatrograph, and this is all the more satisfactory because this particular item in the bill is one which would surely receive the approval of those who hold the strictest views with regard to the amusement of the people. In fact, these exhibitions of living pictures which are now the vogue may be claimed as the legitimate and greatly improved development of the magic lantern views in which a former generation found such huge delight. Since we last noticed Mr. Paul's Theatrograph some new and interesting pictures have been added, including "The Soldier's Courtship", which shows how a red-coated Romeo meets his Juliet — otherwise known as Mary Ann — how they take possession of one of the public seats, and how their love-making is interrupted by the intrusion of a severe-looking female, who is unceremoniously ejected, and the lovers resume their former affectionate attitude. Amongst the most familiar scenes is Blackfriars-bridge, the people and various vehicles crossing being reproduced with a startling fidelity which evokes loud applause. Those who did not witness the last Lord Mayor's show can obtain a very good idea of its principal features from Mr. Paul's reproduction. "The Twins' Tea Party" depicts two children taking tea together and having a slight tiff. An effective comedy scene is "The Husband's Return at 2.0am." The manner in which the indignant wife treats her festive spouse and his undignified retreat beneath the bed clothes cause much laughter. "Calling out the Fire Brigade" is a realistic picture of London life, and among other animated photographs which win favour are a dance by the Sisters Hengler, a serpentine dance, in which the colours of the dancer's dress are reproduced, the Music Hall Sports, and the Prince of Wales's Derby.
This review, published in The Era on 16 January, is the first reference I have found to Paul's film of the Sisters Hengler. A list of films published by Paul in November of the previous year fails to mention it. Although its precise date is uncertain, I have decided to include it among Paul's films for 1897 (see Appendix 3).
In May occurred the disastrous cinematograph fire at a charity bazaar in Paris which resulted in such tragic loss of life. This disaster was widely reported in the English press and had repercussions on this side of the Channel. There was a sudden awareness of the dangers inherent in cinematograph performances and tighter controls were called for. During a trades exhibition in July at the Agricultural Hall, Islington, 'at which cinematographic pictures were to be shown, the management insisted that the apparatus be enclosed in a fireproof chamber, so a partitioning had to be erected and lined with sheet iron.' The Optical Magic Lantern Journal, reporting the matter, asked the question: 'Is this not carrying matters to extremes?' But with time, the practice was generally adopted and portable iron projection booths were being advertised by dealers specialising in cinematographic equipment.
The press was not slow in reporting any fire that involved a cinematograph performance and several such cases are also recorded in the photographic journals. Furthermore, Cecil M. Hepworth and George Dickman, manager of the Eastman Photographic Materials Co, argued the pros and cons regarding the safety of cinematograph film, in the pages of The Amateur Photographer. It was a situation which could not be ignored by the trade and practical steps were taken to reduce the risks by the application of various safety devices to projection apparatus. For instance, the Cinématographe-Lumière, which was about to be placed on the open market at the time of the Paris fire, was now re-equiped with a special safety condenser in the form of a glass globe filled with water, and R. W. Paul, in characteristic fashion, tackled the problem by designing a completely new apparatus which was placed on the market in September as Paul's Fireproof Animatographe (6). The film spools in this machine were entirely enclosed in metal casings, and the film passed through narrow slots to and from the mechanism, thus reducing to a minimum the amount of film which was actually exposed and likely to catch fire. The machine had a four-picture sprocket actuated by a four-star Maltese cross; it was far more portable than his previous projector and was used on a stiff tripod. The price of the complete outfit, with iron lantern, condenser, arc lamp (or mixed jet), on portable oak tripod stand was £15. The various features of the apparatus are set forth in an advertisement published in October (7). Reviewing the machine in its issue of 29 October, The Amateur Photographer had this to say:
... the picture-strip is only in motion for about a fifth as long as it is stationary, the shutter is quite small, and the flicker is, consequently, much reduced. In short the whole effect upon the screen is as good as in many an instrument of far more elaborate and expensive design.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Beginnings of the Cinema in England 1894â"1901 by John Barnes. Copyright © 1983 John Barnes. Excerpted by permission of University of Exeter Press.
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