The technique of the photoplay

Contents

I. The Photoplay

Told in action instead of words — a distinct literary formrequisites of a writer — not all may achieve success.

II. A Visit to a Theater

Introduction To Second Edition

It is less than eighteen months since the first edition was placed in the market, following serial publication in the columns of The Moving Picture World, but those eighteen months have been marked by great changes in photoplay needs and construction. Then the cut-back was merely a device for avoiding the showing of unpleasant or prohibited action; now it figures importantly in the development of the story. The "punch," too, was then a thing unnamed, though the punch has always been the requisite of the real story. The past year has also seen the acceptance of the multiple-reel as a regular release instead of an occasional novelty.

These and minor changes have rendered it expedient to issue a completely new volume under the old title. With the exceptions, noted above there is little herein contained that may not be found in the first edition, but all matters are treated in greater detail and an effort has been made to teach rather than to set forth the rules, and leave the writer to make his own application of the same. Instead of one there are four complete sample manuscripts, for two of which we are indebted to the Lubin Manufacturing Company and to Lawrence S. McCloskey, their Editor-author, and in addition there are many examples in explanation of certain developments.

An effort has been made to set forth clearly all of the matters treated, but this information will be useless to he who merely reads and does not study this little volume. It is not a magic wand to be waved over the typewritten page. It is a text book for the earnest student who seeks to make progress, and to all earnest students, who realize that the Photoplay is by no means the least of the branches of literary work, this volume is dedicated in the hope that they will find as much pleasure in the study of its pages as has the writer in preparing the work.

New York, June, 1913. Epes Winthrop Sargent.

Chapter I. The Photoplay

Told in action instead of words — a distinct literary form — requisites of a writer — not all may achieve success.

Although not technically correct, the simplest and most understandable definition of the photoplay is that it is a story told in pictured action instead of being described in words.

A series of incidents, closely connected, leading from a start to a definite ending, is a story when told in words. If it is told in dialogue form with appropriate action and gesture, it becomes a play. Done in action and gesture, but without words, it is a pantomime, but pantomime as it is understood on the stage, is not a photoplay. The pantomime of the stage employs a "language" of its own. Certain gestures mean certain things, and pantomime is told in a sort of sign language, not understood by many in America, but intelligible to most European theatergoers. Photoplay has no arbitrary gestures.

The photoplayer who asks for food, stretches his hand toward the spread table and looks more or less appealing, according to the circumstances in which he finds himself. The pantomimist would open his mouth and point down his throat with the first and second fingers of his hand. If it were drink that he desired, he would use the thumb, extending from his clenched fist, instead of his fingers.

In the early days, copying the work of the French producers, this elementary language was employed in part in the making of the motion picture plays of that period, but as the art advanced, the stilted, arbitrary and unconvincing "language" of pantomime was replaced by natural gestures and actions.

Photoplay, in a word, is not an adaptation of another branch of literary work, but is possessed of a technique all its own. There are, of course, the broad basic rules of literary construction and dramatic development, applicable to all forms of literature, whether written or verbally expressed, but in the past few years the art of writing photoplays has become possessed of a technique that is applicable only to the writing of picture plays and to no other form.

The photoplay itself is the newest of the literary arts. Pictures •of motion projected on the screen became a commercial proposition only in 1895. Even then it was crude and undeveloped; the forty and fifty foot comedies bearing but slight resemblance to the multiple-reel stories of to-day. Many of the machines of that time could not take more than fifty feet of film at one time, and it was not possible to give more than the hint of a story in the fifty to sixty seconds the picture ran.

As the interest in these short, sketchy subjects waned, the makers of projectors increased the capacity of their machines. One, two and three hundred feet could be taken at one time and this capacity was increased until there are now machines that can project three thousand feet of film without reloading and the ultimate capacity of the machine is merely a matter of the size of the magazine and the mechanical difficulties of handling a reel weighing more than twenty pounds.

As the films grew in length, longer stories were produced and these more ambitious efforts called for the production of the picture under more careful management. In place of the man who had dropped into the business, regular stage managers were employed, recruited mostly from the stock and repertoire companies. For a time they wrote all their own plays; rehashes of the standard drama, adaptations from non-copyright books or the products of their own imagination.

One of the Edison producers conceived the idea of making a western play with a large production and hired a small branch of a railroad for a Sunday. He told the players engaged that they could bring their friends, if they desired, and they could see "how pictures were made if they would "go in" a couple of scenes.

He had not counted on such a host as showed up at the station at train time, but they all went along and "The Great Train Robbery" was made with the largest company of people that to that time had ever been employed in a dramatic picture play.

This production marked the turning point of the photoplay. It was shown that the pictures were not yet dead, for one New York vaudeville theater restored the pictures to their old ""headline" position, making the "Train Robbery" the featured attraction.

The change brought a demand for stronger stories. It was seen that the studio force could not produce each week a sufficiently strong story, and outside writers were invited to contribute suggestions, for which they were paid from five to fifteen dollars. These mere synopses were developed in the studio into scripts, since few of the writers possessed the knowledge of picture-making requisite to enable them to develop the script.

THE PHOTOPLAY 9

As the submission of manuscripts to the studios increased and it became apparent that the flood had just commenced, someone familiar with current and standard literature was employed to detect the impostor who sought to sell stories written by others, to read the submissions and select the good from the bad and in general to place his literary intelligence at the disposal of the other studio workers. Since their duties were in part editorial, and for want of a better title, they were known as Editors.

The editors quickly saw that they could be better served if the writers were instructed in the details of picture making. They could not only plan their plots better, but suggest the layout of the scenes. The plot alone was seldom offered in such shape that the scenes were suggested and in order to plan the scenes intelligently, some knowledge of the methods of picture making and some hint as to exact form were needed.

Instruction sheets, generally known as Form Sheets, were supplied without charge to all who asked, but this practise has been abandoned and the desire of the manufacturer is now to check in so far as possible the vast number of faulty scripts that pour into the studio in every mail. Most of the correspondence school courses are copied from or at least based on these old form sheets, but the work has been done by men not fitted by their own knowledge to combine the various sheets.

These schools, through their methods of advertising, have done the business real harm in that the statements made to the effect that no skill or ability is needed to write plays has encouraged literally thousands of ignorant and incompetent persons to submit their scripts and has given others, for whom there might have been hope, the fatal belief that writing photoplays is a simple matter requiring no special qualification or preparation.

This is a very grave error. There was a time when the idea, no matter how crudely presented, was eagerly sought, but that order has changed. The successful writer of the moment is as well equipped technically as the novelist or the dramatist. He writes in strict accordance with the rules of construction and he observes with care the hundred and one details that go to make the perfect script.

It is entirely true that the gift of fluent literary expression is not required, and in this photoplay opens a field to many whose ideas are good, but who are unable to write flowing English, but there is demanded instead the knack, inherent or acquired, of thinking and writing in action, of planning effective situations instead of rounded sentences, of devising dramatic moments and periods of suspense instead of writing glowing narrative and brilliant description.

The first requisite in writing photoplay is imagination. Without this trait none may hope to succeed. The trained fiction writer, can take an old plot and with graceful style and vivid word painting cause it to appear to be completely new, but in photoplay the plot is the foundation of success. Style cannot disguise the age of the idea, there must be some freshness to the plot ; some original twist or completely new development that renders the work acceptable. In this respect the photoplay writer is at a disadvantage beside the creator of fiction or even the producer of dramatic plays.

Imagination, prolific and creative, is the first demand, but this must be supplemented by an ability to weigh the values of a situation. The author of photoplays must be able to gauge his story so nicely that the interest of the spectator is held in growing tensity until the climax breaks. What the fiction writer must do in words, the photoplay writer must do with business and situation.

In the years of development between 1909 and 1913, upward of ten thousand persons have sought to win success as photoplay writers. This is a conservative estimate. Some Editors place the figures at nearer 50,000. Some write one or two plays and give up in disgust when these do not sell. Others are more persistent, but of all who have made the venture there are not more than fifty persons outside the studios, who look to photoplay writing for their support or who are competent to gain a decent income from the writing of plays alone.

The payment for photoplays is increasing steadily, but with it comes a demand for a grade of work commensurate with the higher payment. In magazine work the man who gets five cents a word is expected to write a vastly better story than the man who is paid but half a cent. It is the same in photoplay.

The writing of photoplays, then, is no short cut on the road to success, nor is it a pastime lightly to be taken up when the spirit moves. It is not possible to read any book or course and at once write scripts that will sell. Success is to be gained, save in exceptional instances, only through close study, hard work and long practise. It is not possible to sell many if any scripts the first year, but photoplay writing is a pleasant avocation, if not a profitable vocation, and careful study and hard work may lead to studio connections and good remuneration. The amateur of yesterday is the expert of today and without exception they are the ones who were willing to study and work hard.

A VISIT TO A THEATER 1.1

Chapter II. A Visit To A Theater

Technical terms — the value of a title — the reel — stage terms — leader — inserts — visions — dissolves — cut-backs — matches — masks — night scenes.

Before we apply ourselves closely to the study of technique, let us first visit some photoplay theater and watch a subject run. It will help us to familiarize ourselves with some of the terms and give us an idea of the films. The photoplay theater is the real schoolroom of the man or woman who would write picture plays if only the visit is made with seeing eyes and not solely for the purpose of amusement. There is no more valuable instruction to be had, for here we can see the successes and failures and can study out the causes of those triumphs or defeats.

Before we go inside let's look at the lobby for a moment and study the posters. We have come with the fixed intention of entering. The poster display can neither attract us nor send us on our way, but the theater is on a busy thoroughfare and hundreds pass with a glance at the pictures. Some are attracted bv the title or the picture and stop to look, some of these pass on, others enter the theater.

Some of the titles do not attract us. There is one that is seven words long. If we were hurrying past, the quick glance could never take in that title, and no matter how attractively it may be worded, we would not be induced to enter. Nor is it merely long and cumbersome. It takes up more than a third of the space that in other posters is given to the picture of some catchy scene from the play. There's another on the other side of the ticket box. The letters are twice the size of the other and yet they take up only about a sixth of the poster space. Just two words — Bessie Did — but the picture is that of a rather attractive looking girl, and we are glad that we are going inside that we may learn what it was she did.

We've learned one thing already and we've not even bought a ticket. We have found that a title should be short, so as to be quickly read, and attractive so as to pique the curiosity and make the person reading the title want to see the picture. If we saw what it was that Bessie did from the picture on the poster, we know that we should not be so eager when we got inside, so we have also learned that the title must tell something about the picture, but not tell so much that we know all about the picture t>efore we see it on the screen.

One poster announces that the story is in three parts and another says "Big six-reel show today."

The reel is the spool on which the film is wound ; a cylinder of wood as wide as the film and about two inches through. On each side is a metal disc, about ten inches in diameter, to hold the film in place. That's one sort of reel, but a reel is also a rough standard of measurement. It is about a thousand feet of film, seldom less than 950 and never less than 850. If a manufacturer releases or puts on the market four reels a week, it means that on four set days he publishes about a thousand feet of film. The exchanges which hire the reels to the theaters, have standing orders for certain release days. They know they will get about one thousand feet of film instead of getting 500 this Friday and 1,800 feet next Friday, so the reel is handy for them. On the other hand they contract with the theater to> rent it so many reels a day, and the manager knows that if he gets three reels his performance will run about an hour, since it takes from fifteen to eighteen minutes to run one thousand feet of film at proper speed. The reel is a handy measure for him, because he "knows that three reels means about three thousand feet.

That a subject is in three parts means that it is in three reels or that it runs about three thousand feet or one hour. Part sounds better than reel and is better understood, so part is used in the case of a story that runs more than one reel.

A split reel means that the thousand feet has been divided or split up between two or more subjects, and we speak of split reel or half reel comedies or dramas to indicate some play that does not run the full thousand feet.

Perhaps a part of the split reel may be given to an educational subject. That is a general term for almost anything that is not a play. It may be a picture of the "Bay of Naples" or an X-Ray picture of the human stomach ; it may be made in China or Chicago or right outside the theater door. There was a time when the educational was merely used to fill out the reel with, but now they have a value of their own. The educational and the animated weekly that is merely a newspaper in motion pictures, are things with which we have no present concern. The film makers have special photographers who travel about getting these, and we cannot sell tips on the news yet, though this may •come in time.

A VISIT TO A THEATER 13

Passing the door we'll peep into the projection room and look at the projection machine. This is nothing more than a magic lantern with a mechanism for passing the film in front of the lense and bringing it to a halt at the exact moment that the shutter of the lense is open. The movement of the film is continuous from the magazine or fireproof box that holds the film and it is continuous at the take-up or lower magazine, where it is wound on another reel after it has passed through the machine, but a simple device causes the film to be drawn down bit by bit so that just one frame or one of the thousands of pictures on a piece of film is at rest as the lense is uncovered. The machine is generally turned by' hand, though a motor can be used, and if you'll notice you will see that the operator makes one revolution of the crank every second. Every turn of the crank passes one foot of film through the machine, so we learn that in picture making a second is a foot and a foot is a second. That's about all the machine can teach us; let us find a seat and watch the screen. The picture that was running is about over, but a new one will start in a moment. Here it comes.

But at the start it is not a picture at all. It is an ornamental frame enclosing the name of the picture, the name of the maker and perhaps the name of author or producer or both. That seems to stay steady for a few seconds, but it doesn't. It was on the screen for ten seconds, so ten feet or about 150 different pictures of the title were shown in that time. Ten feet of title are used because it has been figured out that it takes the slow readers about ten seconds to spell out the title.

Now the first real picture is on the screen. It's a bachelor's den with the hero sitting in an easy chair smoking. As it is not a real room, but made from painted scenery, we speak of it as a set and because it shows a room and not some place outdoors it is an interior. Were it out of doors it would be an exterior. Made with scenery it would be an exterior set, but if it was really outdoors it would be a location.

The scene in the room only lasts a few seconds, though it seems longer, because that is one of the odd things about the silent picture. We were watching the bachelor in his den and in just one-sixteenth of a second we are in the library in the heroine's home. The girl goes to the table and sits down to write. We wonder what it is she is writing about and, as though in reply, a written letter blots out the library. It is just as though we read the letter over her shoulder. Presently the letter vanishes and we see the library again, but now we know that the girl's name is Jane, that the man's name is Harry and that Jane is going to the country because her father wants her to stay and meet an English lord whom he is anxious for her to marry. Jane doesn't want to marry him because she loves Harry, so she is running away. All of this was in the letter.

If it were just left to pictures alone we could, after a while, get the idea that Jane went to the country to get away from the noble suitor and that she loves Harry, but a million feet of pictures could not tell us that her name was Jane or that his was Harry. It has been done in twenty seconds in that letter.

When the picture was being put together in the factory, that library scene was all one straight piece of film, but at one point there was a mark that said "Insert letter No. i," so a girl cut the piece of film in two and cemented the letter in, or inserted it, so that anything belonging to a scene that is not in the photograph of the scene is called an insert

Now Jane calls her maid and gives her the letter. The maid leaves the room. If this had been made five years ago we would have had a picture of the maid leaving Jane's house, another in which she is seen walking along the street and a third where she comes to Harry's house, but it was found that it looks just as real if the maid leaves Jane's library and comes into Harry's den, though we need one of those exterior scenes to show that Harry and Jane do not live in the same house. We might see her leaving Jane's house or coming to Harry's ; since she comes to Harry's house we have an idea that this is done because the front of Harry's house will be used again and Jane's home will not be shown from the outside.

The fourth scene is the same as that first one, where we saw Harry sitting smoking. The letter is brought him and he starts to read it. There it comes on the screen again, but this time we barely have time to read the "Dear Harry" when it is gone again. We know what is in the letter, so just a flash about three feet long is used.

Now the room vanishes and there comes on the screen some printed words that read: "The next day. Harry helps Jane to escape." We are going to see that he aids her escape, but we can't tell whether the escape is that same day or weeks afterward. There might, of course, have been a large calendar on the wall. In the first scenes it showed a large 10 and now Harry tears off a leaf and shows that it is the next day, but the passage of time is better told in print, and so a leader is used. Leader is also called sub-title and interscription, but leader is preferred.

The picture runs on. Jane has gone to the country and Harry stays home. Sitting in his room he thinks of her and as he does she seems to appear before him, at flfst just a shadowy outline,

A VISIT TO A THEATER 15

but gradually growing more distinct, until it seems as though she was as real as Harry himself. Then she slowly fades away and Harry realizes with a sigh that it was just a day dream.

Jane has been dissolved into the picture and out again. Harry sinks back in his chair again and wonders what Jane is doing. Once more we see Jane, but this time we see not only Jane, but the orchard where she is sitting. This time Jane's figure is not so large, but the picture takes up almost a quarter of the screen. She comes and goes just as she did in the other appearance, but this time it is a vision. The vision differs from the dissolve in that a vision is distinct from the scene while in a dissolve whatever is shown is dissolved into the scene already showing. The first time we saw just Jane in the den. Now we see Jane in the orchard, so it is a vision since Jane and the orchard are quite apart from Harry in his den.

The next scene also shows Harry's room, but this time he is in evening dress because he is going to take dinner with Jane's father. That's why there was just a one word leader flashed on the screen that said "Later." Without that leader it would have seemed that Harry, sitting in the chair in a smoking jacket, suddenly sprang up and by the mere act of jumping had changed bis clothes. It was the same room. The only thing changed would be Harry's clothes, because there would be no pause between the two scenes, so we break them with a leader. The leader only runs three seconds, but it acts like the drop curtain in a theater.

A moment later we get another sort of leader. Harry comes to Jane's home and meets the Count. We can guess that the old man says that this is Jane's husband to-be, for Harry stiffens up and a leader flashes on the screen. This time it is in quotation marks and says, "She will marry only an American."

All the other leaders have been between scenes, but this is right in the middle, so it is known as a "cut-in leader,' 1 because it is cut into the scene.

As the play runs along we find that the Count is not a nobleman at all, but just a thief who is after the jewels that he knows Jane's father keeps in the safe in the library. He coaxes the father to show him the jewels. As the safe is about to be locked, the Count jostles him and the key falls to the floor. The Count picks it up and makes a wax impression of it before he returns it.

We know that the wax impression was made because just as the Count started to rise it seemed as though the camera had been moved right up to the Count, so close that the lense would take in only his hands working with the cake of wax. This happened just as we were wishing that they would come closer so we could see what the Count was doing. We knew it was something important, but we could not quite make it out. In the bust picture the hands were so large we could see every movement Of course it might have been explained in a leader that "The Count makes an impression of the key," but the bust is more interesting because it is a picture and not a leader.

Properly speaking, a bust is a portrait showing the head and shoulders only, but bust is more definite than close %p, which is sometimes used, for close up might also mean a full picture, but with the camera closer to the scene.

Harry knows what the Count is up to and when the false key is made and the Count is about to open the safe, he bursts into the room with Jane's father. The Count is unmasked and driven out of the house. In revenge he plans to abduct Jane. Harry learns about it too late to prevent it, but he goes tearing off in his car to the rescue. The father also learns of the plot and follows. It's a pretty lively three minutes that comes next. We see the Count rushing along, we see Harry following and then the Count and then Harry and then the father, then Harry and then the Count. There is not more than a second or two in each flash, but together they tell the story of the chase and its varying advantage until we are sitting almost on the edge of the seat.

Just a couple of pictures would have told the story, but using the cut-back or switch-back greatly heightens the suspense and keeps the story moving.

In the end Harry saves Jane from the Count and gets her father's consent to their marriage. It's the same old happy ending and we are glad of it. Now comes a tail-piece, a ten foot strip that announces that the picture has been passed by the National Board of Censorship. We are rather surprised, for several actions in this picture are among those barred by the Censors, but it has the Censorship tag, so it is all right.