POPULAR SCIENCE AS REVEALED BY THE CINEMATOGRAPH
The average audience before the micro-cinematographic film is very
much in the attitude of the schoolboy in the natural history lesson.
Scarcely any other subject holds such possibilities of interest for
him; yet the instruction must be given in some vivifying form, or it
fails to touch his latent sympathy, and becomes a tiresome repetition
of formulæ and inexplicable processes. Similarly an audience will sit
absorbed before a film displaying infinitesimal organic life; but only
on condition that its human instincts are in some way appealed to.
Science lessons must be humanised, when they rival the most dramatic
films in interest.
Unfortunately the supply of this kind of film is extremely limited.
Producers are not convinced of the heartiness of the demand; and the
labour, expense, and anxiety attending the preparation of such subjects
prevent their development upon any but a small scale.
An account has been given of Dr. Comandon’s wonderful achievements in
bacteriological micro-cinematography, through the firm of Pathé Frères.
In popular science the world’s market is practically supplied by an
English company, Kineto, Limited.
This fact is due mainly to Mr. F. Percy Smith, who possesses the happy
faculty of investing his subjects with a quaint fascination which
compels appreciation. It is doubtful whether any film has stirred
popular interest so intensely as that which he prepared for the purpose
of illustrating the physical energy possessed by the common house-fly.
When this film appeared the newspapers far and wide associated the
cinematographer with strange powers, and the capacity to train the
bluebottle in much the same way as the lion tamer subdues the King of
the Forest. Nothing was farther from the truth. The scientist merely
devised unusual and novel devices to illustrate the points which he had
in mind, and the fly was left more or less to follow its own devices.
For instance, it was seen to walk again and again up the rim of a small
wheel in a vain effort to reach the highest point. “Trickery!” was the
verdict when the film was seen first, and it was hard to make people
believe that the picture was genuine. As a matter of fact, the fly
performed the operation quite naturally, though in order to induce it
to do so the experimenter had to resort to an ingenious device.
A dark box was prepared with a very small door of thin glass at one
end. This piece of glass was fitted with a narrow slit in which a small
toothed wheel, similar to a watch escapement wheel, was fitted in such
a way as to be free to revolve. The imprisoned fly, seeing the daylight
entering through the glazed end of the box, attempted to escape in
that direction, but found its passage obstructed by the glass. When it
struck the latter, it received a smart tap on the head from a tooth in
the wheel, which was caused to move through the fly’s frantic efforts.
Time after time the fly threw itself against the glass door, and on
every occasion it received a rap on the head. At last frenzy gave way
to tractability, and it came to the conclusion that the best means of
escape was by walking up the wheel. Of course, as it advanced the wheel
slipped round in the opposite direction. While the insect was walking
like a criminal on a treadmill, the pictures were taken.
The results with the fly under restraint, however, were not entirely
satisfactory, so the experimenter set up the wheel in the open, and
withdrew a fly from its prison after it had become tractable. Time
after time the blue-bottle would fly away directly it was placed on the
wheel. The camera, however, was kept in readiness for exposure the
moment a fly did attempt to walk along the rim, and at length it was
successfully caught in the act. Again, the fly was laid upon its back
beneath the wheel, and was seen to revolve the disc with its legs. The
simple explanation of this seemingly clever juggling trick was that the
fly thought it was walking in the same way that it walks up a wall or
along the ceiling.
One fly in the same film was seen seated in a diminutive chair nursing
a smaller fly, or balancing and juggling with articles such as tiny
dumb-bells, but of large size in comparison with its own bulk. In this
instance the fly was secured by a thin strand of silk passed around
its body; but here again, in performing the apparent juggling feats,
it was merely following its instinct. Being prevented from flying, it
naturally endeavoured to make progress by walking.
The fly was to be seen endeavouring to balance a piece of cork, and
intense amusement was caused when it was seen to wipe its feet, in the
same way that a man rubs his hands together, preparatory to making some
kind of effort. In reality, the fly found that the suckers on its feet,
by means of which it secures a grip upon a surface when walking upside
down, were somewhat dusty. The apparent preparation for a herculean
attempt was nothing more than the fly cleaning its organs to achieve
its purpose.
This film occupied several weeks in preparation. Extreme patience had
to be exercised, and when a desired phase of movement had been secured,
often it was found defective from the technical point of view, so
that the wearying round had to be repeated. Recently Mr. Smith has
continued his investigations, and has produced another fascinating
film, demonstrating still more clearly the tremendous physical energy
possessed by the bluebottle, and the wonderful powers of its proboscis,
the movements of which, to assist the legs, are shown very distinctly.
[Illustration: NATURE AND THE CINEMATOGRAPHER--MR. PERCY SMITH AT WORK.
Great Britain has taken the lead in bringing the wonders of science
popularly before the public.--_See page 190._]
Another of Mr. Smith’s achievements is the film showing the hatching
of a chicken’s egg. The period of incubation is extended over 21
days--about 500 hours--and the egg naturally has to be preserved at
an even temperature the whole time, so some special means had to be
devised to make the film without imperilling the life of the embryo.
The opaqueness of the shell constituted a formidable stumbling-block.
Moreover, in the initial stages the embryo is so small, and its
movement so slight, that little difference is observable for the first
50 hours or more. Direct photography was seen to be out of the question.
[Illustration: FLY SEATED IN A DIMINUTIVE CHAIR BALANCING A CORK.]
[Illustration: AN UNFAMILIAR JUGGLER--BLUEBOTTLE BALANCING A PIECE OF
VEGETABLE STALK.]
An incubator was acquired, and the eggs were placed in it. At regular
and frequent intervals during the incubation, some were withdrawn, and
opened to ascertain the size and position of the embryo.
From these data diagrams of the early stages were prepared. They were
drawn carefully to scale and accurate in every detail. This task had to
be continued during the first 54 hours--the period when the movements
of the embryo were unknown--and involved the preparation of no fewer
than 1,000 diagrams, prepared in such a way that they resembled
photographs. From the number of these records and the period occupied
in incubation, it will be seen that they were prepared at intervals of
about three minutes during both day and night. This consecutive series
were then cinematographed upon the film, and thus a natural development
lasting 2½ days was reduced to a period of about one minute upon the
screen.
The early part of the film is not so interesting to the public as
that showing the chick coming out of the shell. Here again an initial
difficulty was encountered. The hatching, of course, could not be
cinematographed inside the incubator; and to remove the egg from the
temperature of 103° in which it had been kept was to arrest the process
at once.
Fortunately the experiment was being made in summer, and the
thermometer read 103° in the sun. The camera was set up, and at the
moment the chick gave signs of breaking through its shell, the egg was
removed from the incubator and placed upon a table in the full glare
and heat of the sun. In a few seconds the chick made further efforts
to break down the walls of its prison, and very soon made the first
breach in the shell. As the heat of the sun was exactly that of the
incubator, hatching was continued under precisely natural conditions.
It was not long before the hole in the shell was widened sufficiently
to enable the chick to wriggle its way into the world. From the
cinematographic point of view, the hatch was as perfect as could be
desired, especially as the chick was strong and active after hatching.
Mr. Smith once ventured into the Sussex woods, to obtain some animated
photographs of the British adder in its natural haunts. He succeeded in
tracking down an excellent specimen, of which some first-rate pictures
were taken. Then he proceeded to record on the film the methods by
which this reptile may be caught and handled in safety. While holding
a large specimen in his hand he provoked it to fury, and caused it
to strike out savagely, so as to secure on the film some life-like
pictures of an adder striking, as well as details of its mouth and
fangs. As a contrast, he then decided to show how an adder should _not_
be handled. He took the precaution to chloroform the reptile before
mis-handling it, but the snake recovered too soon from the anæsthetic,
and striking out with its fangs, caught the investigator a smart blow
on the hand, leaving two minute punctures. The bite of the adder is
seldom fatal, but, contrary to popular belief, it is far from harmless,
producing delirium and precipitating collapse, recovery from which
occupies several hours, or in some cases even weeks, as Mr. Smith found
to his cost.
An unusually successful popular science film is the one showing the
development of a flower from seed to blossom. It has been encored more
than once on being presented.
The average plant demands several weeks from seed to blossom. Mr. Smith
made an ingenious apparatus for securing a continuous representation of
growth. The seed was shown first in the initial stages until the embryo
burst from the protective or outer shell or husk; and then continuously
from the moment the first sign of the shoot appeared above the level of
the soil.
[Illustration:
[_Copyright, Urban Trading Co., Ltd._
1.
2.
3.
DEMONSTRATING THE PHYSICAL ENERGY OF THE FLY.
1. Fly lying on its back spinning a wheel. 2. Juggling flies. 3. The
fly walking up the turning wheel.]
[Illustration: THE LIFE OF THE BUTTERFLY.
This remarkable film, prepared by the Ambrosio Company of Italy,
illustrates the fascinating evolution of the butterfly from the
caterpillar. It secured the premier award of 5,000 francs for the best
natural history film in the cinematograph section of the recent Turin
Exhibition.--_See page 324._]
The camera was set up and an automatic apparatus attached thereto,
which enabled an exposure to be made at predetermined intervals both
during the day and night. The apparatus was driven by a curious motor
which obtained its power from dripping water; and the arrangement was
such that, after the exposure was made, the film was moved forward
to bring the next area of sensitised surface before the lens. The
receptacle containing the seed was placed at the correct distance
to ensure a large picture, and for the purposes of illumination at
night a special device was connected to the driving mechanism of the
camera, whereby the subject was brilliantly illuminated at the instant
of exposure. The exposures were made at average intervals of thirty
minutes, giving forty-eight exposures at different stages of the growth
in the course of the twenty-four hours. When projected on the screen
at the normal rate of sixteen pictures per second, it looks as though
the growth of the plant had been forced to about 30,000 times its usual
speed, with the camera continuously in operation the whole time.
The great secret of Mr. Smith’s success is the simplicity of the
apparatus he employs for his work. Each subject demands special
arrangements. His contrivances for the most part are extemporised from
crude materials; even the microscope, which he sometimes uses, being
of the simplest and cheapest pattern. He has found that elaborate
apparatus often complicates his work without producing such good
results as are procurable by the most primitive devices.
Work in this field is attended with some curious results. The eyes of
some of the lower animals are extremely fine lenses, and unless care is
bestowed some sorry tricks are played at the expense of the scientist.
Mr. Smith related to me that on one occasion he secured an excellent
series of pictures of the frog at close quarters; and congratulated
himself upon his success. His dismay was great when he projected the
pictures for the first time. Although the frog itself was beyond
reproach, interest in it paled before the unexpected sight of the
operator turning the handle of the cinematograph, reflected with great
distinctness in the frog’s eye.
There is one great difficulty attending the photography of the
smaller organisms of Nature which is very difficult to surmount; that
is, unnatural results arising either from the disturbance of the
object under examination, or its photography in a false environment.
This complexity is emphasised very strongly in connection with
cinematography. If it is desired, for instance, to record garden pests
engaged in their destructive work, it is trying indeed to convey a
correct pictorial description of their methods. Troubles concerning
illumination are particularly baffling of solution. Mr. Smith has
devised a special apparatus, which is very similar in its general
characteristics to a heliograph, mounted upon a tripod stand so that
it can be revolved in any direction. With this parabolic reflector
the sunlight can be brought into position and concentrated upon the
subject under cinematographic observation without disturbing it. The
photographs by this means of insects at work, no matter how unreal
they may appear at first sight, are absolutely true to Nature, and
are taken under incontestably natural conditions. In fact, the ray of
illumination thrown upon the object by this means is so brilliant as to
enable subjects to be photographed in their natural colours; which fact
may in the future afford scientists a wonderful opportunity of studying
protective colouring in insects.
It is probably beyond dispute that the popular scientific film, treated
in such a manner as is indicated in this chapter, is certain to command
the approval of the public in the end. At the present moment the
popular scientific cinematograph picture is in its infancy. It will
be only through the perseverance of the scientist who has the happy
faculty of amusing as well as entertaining a general audience that this
class of film ever will have a vogue. The tendency towards this state
of affairs, happily, is improving every day, for the cinematograph
is appealing more and more to the cultured classes, who, after all,
constitute its most substantial support.