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The Beginnings of the Cinema in England 1894â"1901
Volume Five: 1900
By John Barnes University of Exeter Press
Copyright © 1997 John Barnes
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-85989-958-1
CHAPTER 1
Three Pioneers — Paul, Acres and Hepworth
ROBERT. W. PAUL
The Boer War was the centre of attention in both public and private life during 1900, and a mad jingoism gripped practically the whole nation. It is not surprising, therefore, that many English films of this period were obsessed with the subject, sometimes to the point of absurdity, as is revealed by some of the synopses published in the appendix. The films of R.W. Paul are among the worst offenders in this respect. Perhaps the fault is more apparent today than it was at the time, because the same insane sentiments were also being expressed in other media such as music hall, newspapers and journals.
In other respects, however, Paul's films were some of the most advanced for the times. Some of his trick films were extremely ingenious; his choice of subject matter was more varied than any of his contemporaries; and his coverage of topical events, including the war in South Africa, was only matched by that of the Warwick Trading Company and the Mutoscope & Biograph Syndicate.
To achieve and maintain his position as Britain's premiere film producer, Paul built the studio at Muswell Hill, which has been described and illustrated in a previous volume of this series. Now he needed more up-to-date and larger premises in which to process and print his films. On the plot of ground he had acquired for the studio, he proceeded to build a substantial brick building to house his laboratory (Plate 1). As Paul himself later recalled, 'adjacent to the studio a laboratory was erected, with a capacity for processing up to 8,000 feet of film per day'. The method of handling the film was described by Frederick A. Talbot in his 1912 book: Moving Pictures. The negative was first wound upon a light, square wooden frame, which rested loosely on two uprights in such a way that it could revolve.
The free end of the film was fixed to one side of the frame, and the film was then passed from one side to the other, as if being wound upon a wheel, as it was uncoiled from the spool, the inner end of the film being likewise secured to the frame. This rack was dipped first into a vertical tank to soak the film, and then was placed in a flat tank or trough to be developed in the same way as an ordinary glass plate. By this means every part of the exposed surface was developed equally. Development carried to the requisite degree, the frame was withdrawn, washed, and finally immersed in the fixing tank, which was of the same horizontal design. When the image was fixed it was placed into another tank and received a thorough washing, to remove all traces of the fixing solution, as in the ordinary developing process. This task completed, the film was uncoiled from the flat rack to be recoiled upon a wooden drum, which was suspended from the ceiling in the drying chamber, until the film was dry and hard.
After the negative had passed through these procedures it was cut to the required length and form and finally printed. The number of positive prints made depended on the estimated demand for copies.
In charge of the dark room staff was J.H. Martin, who was later to become an important producer in his own right. He is perhaps remembered as a partner in the pioneering firm of Cricks & Martin of Croydon. This company had formerly operated under the name of Cricks & Sharp, but when H.M. Sharp withdrew from the firm, Martin took his place in 1908 as Cricks' new partner. Cricks himself had also been associated with Paul, and for some time had been responsible for the sale of films and equipment. This side of the business had initially been conducted from 44 Hatton Garden, but with the increase in business further premises were opened at 68 High Holborn, known as Paul's Animatographe Depot. On 27 July 1900, Paul circulated an 'important notice of removal': (Plate 2)
I have pleasure in informing you that owing to the rapid expansion of my business in the manufacture and sale of animated photographs, I have taken a lease of and fitted up the above premises where, in future, a stock of animatographs and films will be kept. Mr G.H. Cricks will continue to conduct this department.
Henceforth, the address at 44 Hatton Garden was to be used for scientific instrument manufacture only. The Depot in High Holborn became the showplace for Paul's new equipment, where visiting exhibitors and showmen could see the apparatus in action and have the latest films projected prior to selecting their order (Plate 3). Amongst the new equipment on view was Paul's New Century Animatographe, a greatly improved projector which combined the functions of film and slide projection. The intermittent mechanism differed from Paul's previous star-wheel movement and instead was composed of a small roller at the end of a revolving arm, which interacted with a slotted disc, so imparting an intermittent movement to the film sprocket to which it was attached (Plate 4). The period of effective motion was so short that a twenty-two-and-a-half degree shutter rendered the period of eclipse one-sixteenth of the period of illumination, with the result that, a writer in The Optician observed, 'certainly the absence of flicker on the screen is very noticeable'.
The first theatre to be equipped with this new machine was the Alhambra Theatre, Leicester Square. An advertisement in The Era on 26 May announced 'Paul's New Century Animatographe now shown nightly at 10.00 o'clock'. Although the first indication that a new machine of that name was in production is found as early as 14 April, it was not until July that the machine was advertised for sale on the open market.
With the necessary infrastructure in place, Paul embarked upon an ambitious programme of film production. Speaking about his studio at Muswell Hill to members of the British Kinematograph Society in 1936, he said: 'With the valuable aid of Walter Booth and others, hundreds of humorous, dramatic and trick films were produced in the studio.' This statement has led some historians to suppose that the majority of fiction films and certainly all the trick films were the work of Walter Booth. I am unable to accept this view. If Booth had been a former stage magician, as Denis Gifford and others have said, then he may well have been responsible for those films which employed regular conjuring tricks or simple stop-motion substitution and double exposure techniques. But it is more than likely that Paul himself had a hand in those films which contained effects of a more complex nature, whereby the tricks were accomplished purely by mechanical means which required technical adjustments to the camera itself.
Throughout his short film career, Paul had designed and built several ciné cameras. He therefore had the knowledge and skill to adapt certain of his mechanisms to perform the effects he desired in his films. We know, for instance, that he built a camera with an adjustable moving front lens attachment whereby a witch was seen to ride upon a broomstick. Frederick A. Talbot describes how the mechanics of the effect were achieved:
In order to get the effect of the witch riding in the sky, Paul invented a novel movement in the camera, which is now in general use in trick cinematography. The lens was arranged to be raised or lowered in relation to the area of film in the gate, but still independently of the film itself. This was done with a small gearing device whereby, when the gear handle was turned, the lens was moved upwards or downwards. The witch astride her broom stood upon the floor of the stage, which was covered with black cloth, against a background of similar material. By turning the gear handle of the lens attachment the latter was raised, until the witch riding on her broom was lifted to the upper corner of the film and there photographed. Although she simulated the action of riding through space in the traditional manner, in reality she merely moved across the black-covered floor.
This effect was used in The Magic Sword (1901), and was described in a testimonial by J.N. Maskelyne, of the Egyptian Hall, as the finest trick subject he had yet seen.
Of the trick films produced by Paul in 1900, one in particular stands out: His Mother's Portrait (Plates 5 and 6) which was described at the time as 'introducing an entirely new effect in animated photography'. The effect takes place when the wounded soldier dreams of his mother and home. The dream appears as a 'vision' in the sky above the prostrate figure. 'Slowly the vision appears in the sky' is how the catalogue synopsis describes it. Such superimposed 'visions' had appeared in films as early as 1898, in G.A. Smith's The Corsican Brothers for example, but hitherto these visions had appeared suddenly. Paul improved the effect by making the vision gradually appear and then just as gradually disappear. How Paul obtained this effect is revealed by Talbot:
Where gradual disappearances and appearances were desired, instead of using a rectilinear diaphragm stop in the lens as is now usual, Paul occasionally resorted to the chemical dissolution of the emulsion and image from the film — an intricate and delicate manipulation entailing considerable time and care, because if the dissolution process were carried too far or undertaken by unskilled hands, the film was spoiled and much labour fruitlessly expended.
Sometimes the desired result was brought about by means of two special detachable stops, which were placed in the lens. Each of these stops had a Vshaped opening of identical dimensions, and were set at right-angles to one another. As they were gradually drawn apart the aperture formed by the intersection of the V-openings through which the light passed to the film was enlarged, while on the other hand, as they moved towards one another, the aperture was decreased, until at last the film scarcely recorded any impression of the subject photographed. The gradual synchronous movement of these two V-shaped stops was somewhat difficult. Today their place is taken by the rectilinear stop in the lens, whereby the same effect can be produced much more easily.
We cannot be sure which of these two methods Paul employed in His Mother's Portrait, as no copy of the film survives. But whichever method was used, this is the first recorded use of the fade-in and fade-out technique. Other trick films produced by Paul during the year included Diving For Treasure, Kruger's Dream of Empire, The Hindoo Jugglers, Britain's Welcome to Her Sons and The Yellow Peril. All made use of effects that had already been used by other film–makers, such as stop-motion substitution, dissolves and superimpositions on a black ground.
The Boer War was the theme of three of Paul's trick films, while The Yellow Peril referred to the Boxer Rebellion. Diving for Treasure consisted of three shots, one of which was an underwater scene photographed through an aquarium tank with live fish swimming about (Plate 7). A similar effect had already been used by Georges Méliès in Visite Sous-Marine du Maine (1898), but Paul's film was probably the first use of the effect in an English film. The Hindoo Jugglers depicted the instant growth of a mango tree from a seed, and the well-known Indian basket trick (Plate 8). Both had been performed at the Egyptian Hall as early as 1865 by the magician Colonel Stodare (Alfred Inglis) and have been performed countless times since by other conjurors. Paul's film may have been performed in the traditional manner by a professional magician (Walter Booth perhaps?) and merely recorded on film, but it was more likely produced by trick photography using the stop-camera technique.
In A Railway Collision (Plate 9) Paul made use of models and a specially constructed layout on which to stage a railway collision between two trains. This was probably the first use of models in an English film. According to Talbot, 'many people marvelled at Paul's good fortune in being on the scene to photograph such a disaster. They were convinced that it was genuine. As a matter of fact, the scene of the accident was a field, in which scenery was erected with considerable care and a long length of model railway track was laid down, while the trains were good toy models.' It is difficult to believe how audiences could possibly have been deceived, so unconvincing does the model work appear to the modern viewer. Yet apparently such was the case, for Paul informs us that the effect on the screen was regarded as very thrilling and the film had a large sale. Furthermore, he was informed that a great number of pirated copies of the film appeared in America.
So few of Paul's films have survived from this period that we are forced to rely on the published descriptions (reproduced in Appendix 1) to get some idea of their content and flavour. Many of them are longer than Paul's previous films, some even reaching a length of 120 feet. The plots are also a little more developed and often require more than the customary single shot to tell their story. Films containing two, three and even five shots are to be found. Nearly all the films, both fiction films and topicals, reflect in some way the war in South Africa. The trick films have obviously been influenced by Georges Méliès, although not in style. The nearest to a Méliès production is The Yellow Peril, which is full of transformations and imps. In some respects it must have been one of Paul's most advanced films, and it is a pity that no copy survives.
Paul also produced films of a more realistic type such as Plucked from the Burning (Plate 10), which seems to anticipate James Williamson's Fire! of 1901. His Mother's Portrait is a rather more melodramatic example of the realist style, as is The Hair-Breadth Escape of Jack Shephard (Plate 11). Paul also appears to be the first to have tackled a classical subject, and his Last Days of Pompeii (Plate 12) is surely the precursor of all spectacle films. It even contains a destructible set, with falling columns and an erupting volcano. A few comedy films form part of his repertoire. Examples include Punished, The Drenched Lover, A Wet Day at the Seaside, A Morning at Bow-Street and A Naughty Story (Plate 13). This last is a study in facial expression. All are single-shot films which rely on visual anecdotes.
We cannot now be sure who the directors of these films were. Walter Booth may have been responsible for some and R.W Paul for others; some films may have been co-directed. Unlike the films of Georges Méliès, they do not bear the unmistakable individual style of the artist. If anything, they have the hallmark of Paul himself, a rather methodical down-to-earth character with the precise and innovative flair of the scientist, who was certainly not averse to team work. Paul chose his team well. Some of its members, such as G.H. Cricks and J.H. Martin, went on to achieve success in their own right. Another Paul employee was Frank S. Mottershaw. After serving with Paul from 1900 to 1902, he returned north to his old firm, the Sheffield Photo Co., where he set about reorganizing the film department. Among the films he subsequently directed for the company was A Daring Daylight Robbery (1903), which was to become a key film in the early history of the cinema.
As the staff at the Muswell Hill studio were fully occupied, the taking of topical films was entrusted to Jack Smith and his assistants. A number of important home events were filmed, many of which concerned the comings and goings of the Boer War heroes. More tranquil pursuits, such as the Oxford and Cambridge University Boat Race, the Derby and the Cowes Regatta, were also covered. One of the big events of the year was Queen Victoria's visit to Dublin, and Paul's camera recorded the great review by the Queen in Phoenix Park in a film which ran to 120 ft. Royalty was always deemed a fit subject for the cinematograph, and in June the Prince and Princess of Wales were filmed at Chelsea Hospital interviewing soldiers' wives. As the royal couple approached the camera, 'most effective portraits' resulted, and the Princess was reported to have asked for a copy of the film, which was due to be shown at the Alhambra Theatre. As Paul relates, 'So soon as a topical film had been taken all likely purchasers were informed by telegram or post, and the dark room staff, under J.H. Martin, worked hard to turn out prints, often continuously throughout the night.'
One of Paul's biggest undertakings in the non-fiction class was a two hour documentary depicting life in every branch of the army, called Army Life, or How Soldiers are Made. According to advertisements the film was shot by Paul himself, with the permission of Sir Evelyn Wood, Adjutant-General, and with the assistance of the officers commanding the various depots. To begin with, the whole film was offered to exhibitors on a sharing basis, and only later was it available for sale, in shorter lengths, on the open market. Proprietors and lessees of suitable halls throughout the kingdom were invited to forward terms and vacant dates. It was Paul's intention to recruit experienced staff to accompany the film on provincial tours, and to this effect the following appeal appeared in the press:
Operators who have been previously engaged by me, and others who are thoroughly competent and used to the working of the New Century Animatograph [sic], are requested to forward their addresses stating if and when they are disengaged. In connection with the above projected tours, vacancies will occur for a few competent and reliable men, as lecturers, managers, and working staff ...
To launch the film, a special press and private view was arranged at the Alhambra Theatre, Leicester Square, for Tuesday afternoon, the 18 September, at four p.m. A report of the performance in The Era the following Saturday, sets the scene:
The Alhambra was crowded on Tuesday afternoon to assist at a private view of an original series of animated photographs, taken by Mr R W. Paul, M.I.E.E., inventor of the Animatographe, of the life of the soldier, from the recruiting stage until he becomes a smart linesman, cavalryman, or gunner. The pit was a mass of red coats — the old Chelsea pensioners, who had very considerately been invited by Mr Dundas Slater [manager of the Alhambra]; and in the upper parts of the house the boys of the Duke of York's School were seated. The audience in the stalls largely consisted of officers of various branches of the army, and a number of military drill instructors were also present by invitation ... Each series of films is explained by excellent letter press thrown upon the screen, so that the pictures have a distinct educational value. They are besides very attractive, and no one who takes an interest in our Imperial land forces — and what Briton does not? — should miss the admirable series of representations of military life which have been so industriously and cleverly caught by the camera.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Beginnings of the Cinema in England 1894â"1901 by John Barnes. Copyright © 1997 John Barnes. Excerpted by permission of University of Exeter Press.
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