TRICK PICTURES AND HOW THEY ARE PRODUCED
_II.--Dancing Furniture: Strings, Cords and Wires: “The Magnetic
Gentleman”: The “Stop and Substitution”: “The Automobile
Accident”: Reversal of Action._
The achievements of Mélies and Paul set a very high standard of
excellence in trick pictures. Their popularity precipitated a “trick
film” fever. The market became inundated with so-called magic pictures,
of which the majority were inane or conventional. The inevitable
happened; the public appetite became satiated. Consequently, to-day,
the popular taste demands extreme novelty. Unless the subject is
original in theme, and the atmosphere of mystification is sustained,
the effort is regarded with indifference, if not with absolute
contempt. On the other hand, a first-class trick film commands the
highest admiration, is regarded with as much satisfaction as were
the products of the past masters in cinematographic magic of fifteen
years ago, and when once seen is not forgotten very readily. There
are certain producers who specialise in trick films with considerable
success; but their number is small.
On the other hand, trick devices are introduced to a considerable
extent into the ordinary picture play. I recall a film which depicted
a scene at sea, where the vessel upon which the action took place was
shown rolling and plunging in a truly appalling manner, and was swept
from stem to stern time after time by the angry waves and scud. Wonder
and admiration were expressed by the public at the daring of the
producer in venturing upon a small boat under such terrible climatic
conditions merely to procure a sensational picture.
That scene was produced in the serenity and quietness of the
glass-covered studio under the glare of electric lights. The boat
deck was a stage property, comprising a platform built to resemble
the deck of an actual vessel, mounted upon rollers in such a way that
when the latter were set in motion the boat was caused to rock, roll,
and pitch in the most alarming manner. The angry waves seen on the
horizon as the craft dipped its nose or rose upon a crest were no more
than back-cloths and flats worked out by the scene painter, and set up
by the stage carpenter, while the driving spray and water came from
nothing more formidable than hydrants.
Behind the property boat deck, and disposed in concealed positions,
were stage hands, equipped with hoses and nozzles. By manipulating
these streams of water dexterously as the craft dipped, the jets of
water were played upon its sides at varying angles, causing the foaming
liquid to shoot into the air to produce the precise effect of a rolling
boat dropping into the trough of the sea and smashing into an angry
wave in its descent. The company suffered a severe drenching, it is
true, and one of the actresses was afflicted with an acute attack of
_mal-de-mer_ provoked by the violent movement of the platform!
In another instance the public was shown a seaport town bombarded by a
hostile cruiser. In the foreground were two big guns on the vessel’s
deck, while in the distance was the town. There was a puff of smoke,
and the next instant the buildings struck by the projectile were
observed to crumble into heaps of debris. The illusion was produced
very simply. The big guns were fabrications of wooden laths and painted
canvas, the smoke was a cloud of steam, and the buildings collapsed
because they were built up with hinged sections, which were pulled
down at the critical moment by means of concealed wires and cords,
controlled from the back of the stage.
Through the courtesy of the Gaumont Company, of London and Paris, who
are in the front rank of masters in film magic, at all events as far
as Europe is concerned, I have been allowed to go behind the scenes in
their studio, and am in a position to explain to a puzzled public the
secret of many an apparent miracle.
[Illustration: THE TRAVELLING BED.
The progress of the bed down the public street provokes amusement to
the pedestrians and consternation to its owner, but its movement is due
to the fact that it is being pushed by concealed stage hands.]
The film called “The Travelling Bed” is a typical subject of
mystification. An aged tenant has fallen into arrears with his rent,
and the long-suffering landlord at last commands his eviction. The
bailiffs duly arrive upon the scene, but are spared all trouble by the
fact that directly they appear the chairs, table, and other articles
burst into life. They move about the room, and finally file out of the
door, in the most methodical manner, to pass in a procession into the
street. Meanwhile the unhappy tenant is reclining upon his bed in the
depths of despair. He has no home and does not know where to search for
one. The bed, however, promptly sets out to solve the problem. It bears
its owner into the public highway. The owner is overwhelmed with fright
and dismay at the unexpected development, and indulges in frantic
gesticulations as the bed canters merrily down the centre of the road,
with the passers-by pursuing the unusual spectacle. The mystery of the
Travelling Bed is easily explained. It moves for the simple reason that
it is pushed from behind by stage hands. These men are concealed from
the camera, which merely records the movement of the bed, the alarm of
the owner, and the excitement of the crowd.
This is the simplest and most usual means of imparting animation to a
lifeless object. With such an article as a chair, which cannot hide a
stage hand, recourse has to be made to wires or strings manipulated
from a point in the wings, this being contrived in such a way as to
be invisible to the public. For instance, a gendarme is astonished to
see his sword whisked away from him. The accompanying illustration
shows precisely how this is accomplished, the cords responsible for the
action being made visible purposely to explain the mystery, whereas in
the actual film these strings would be impossible of detection.
[Illustration: THE MAGNETIC GENTLEMAN.
The man-hole cover rises to pursue, and the lamp-post crashes over
to strike the actor by the aid of wires, a common expedient in trick
cinematography.--_See page 210._]
There is no limitation to the variety of effects which can be produced
by the invisible medium of cords, strings, and wires. Probably their
possibilities are revealed to the most pronounced degree in such a
film as “The Magnetic Gentleman.” This unfortunate individual has been
the victim of an attack by Paris Apaches, and forthwith vows never to
venture through the streets again without a protective coat of mail
beneath his conventional waistcoat. But he unintentionally comes into
close proximity to a dynamo, with the result that his protective coat
becomes highly magnetised. As he passes shops where metallic articles
are displayed for sale, they jump towards him and cling tenaciously
to his person. To one and all of these articles thin wires or strings
are attached, the free ends of which are held either by stage hands or
by the magnetic gentleman himself. At the critical moment the cords
are pulled, and as the wires stretch across the path along which the
magnetic gentleman is passing they appear to jump towards him. The
articles which actually adhere to his person are connected to cords
held by the actor himself, who merely pulls them to him as he passes
the shops.
Presently the magnetic gentleman passes over a man-hole cover set in
the middle of the pavement. To the amazement of the audience, the
cover is seen to rise up on its edge and to bowl along the street in
pursuit of its disturbing factor. The cover is a stage property made of
wood, manipulated by wires controlled by the actor. When the cover is
raised there is a short “stop” while a stage hand enters the picture
to give the cover its hoop-like impetus necessary to start it rolling,
the actor then pulling it along by means of a wire, so that the cover
follows hard on the heels of the luckless individual, until its career
is arrested by two workmen, who struggle with the strange runaway.
[Illustration: The pursuing man-hole cover is a wooden property.]
[Illustration: The lamp-post is a stage article hinged in the centre.
HOW THE MAGNETIC GENTLEMAN TRICK FILM WAS PRODUCED.]
But the magnetic gentleman’s misadventures have by no means ended.
He is passing a lamp-post, when suddenly the metal, attracted by the
coat of mail, endeavours to jump towards him, with the result that
the post snaps in twain. The lamp-post is a dummy or stage property,
hinged at about half of its height so as to permit the upper part to
heel over like a flap. Wires are attached to the upper half, and as
the individual passes they are given a sharp tug from the stage hands
stationed outside the picture, or by the actor himself, and it falls
over.
In such instances as these the deception is improved by the scenes
being enacted in the public streets. Every action appears to be
carried out so naturally, and the properties are designed so well and
manipulated so carefully at the critical moments, that the spectators
are led to believe in the actuality of the episodes.
Of course, a film of this character demands considerable preparation,
and photographing it occupies a long time. The picture is built up
incident by incident, in the same way that a picture play is produced,
there being an interval of time between each series of exposures to
permit the arrangements for the next episode to be made; and each phase
is rehearsed over and over again before being filmed. When the pieces
of film are connected to form a complete band, the continuity in action
is so perfect that the public is unable to detect the points where the
sequence was interrupted.
[Illustration: TRICK PICTURE--THE AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.
The actor being replaced by the legless cripple with the dummy legs.]
A film which created a sensation when it appeared was the “Automobile
Accident.” A workman, who has imbibed not wisely but too well, is
homeward bound, and describes grotesque geometrical patterns as he
advances along the thoroughfare. Presently he is smitten with an
irresistible desire to sleep. Although the couch is hard and dangerous
he lies down in the middle of the road, and in a few seconds is in the
arms of Morpheus. While he is sleeping peacefully a taxi-cab comes
along at a smart pace, and, not observing the slumbering form of the
roysterer, the chauffeur drives over him, cutting off both his legs.
The shock awakes the man rudely, and he is surprised to find his lower
limbs scattered across the roadway. The chauffeur is horrified by the
unfortunate accident; but his fare, on the contrary, a doctor, is not
much perturbed. He descends from his carriage, picks up the dismembered
limbs, replaces them in position, assists the afflicted man to his
feet, and after shaking hands each proceeds on his separate way, the
workman resuming his journey as if nothing had happened.
[Illustration: TRICK PICTURE--THE AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.
The taxi-cab running over the sleeper and apparently cutting off his
legs, but in reality displacing the legless cripple’s property limbs.]
The requirements for this terrible calamity were very few. They
consisted of three actors, to take the parts of the intoxicated
workman, the driver, and the doctor respectively; a cripple who had
lost both legs through an accident, and for properties a taxi-cab and
a couple of artificial limbs. The legless cripple is, of course, the
key to the whole situation. The great difficulty was to find such a
luckless individual, and, when he had been discovered, to bribe him
to participate in a picture play. Probably the unfortunate had never
before found his misfortune so profitable to him.
[Illustration: Observing the effects of the disaster, the doctor
proceeds to replace the severed legs.]
[Illustration: THE AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.
The limbs replaced, the patient and doctor shake hands.]
In a trick film like this, success depends essentially upon what may be
described as the “Stop and Substitution” action.
When the legless cripple was found, the leading actor was made up
in such a manner as to be his exact counterpart. The company then
proceeded to the scene of the accident, which was in the Bois de
Vincennes. The camera was set up and the producer outlined the story to
the participants.
In taking the film the operations were as follows: The leading actor,
dressed like a French workman, ambled down the road simulating
inebriation, and presently prepared his couch in the dust. While he was
lying prone and asleep, the taxi-cab drove up quickly in such a way as
to run over the sleeper’s legs just above the knees. Of course, this
did not actually take place, the chauffeur drawing up a short distance
from the prostrate form. At precisely this point the camera stopped
working, and the cab slowly continued its way until its front wheels
touched the prostrate man’s legs at the required point. The tracks of
the vehicle’s wheels were plainly visible on the road.
[Illustration: TRICK PICTURE--THE AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.
The roysterer after being run over by the taxi-cab sitting up and
brandishing his severed limbs.]
[Illustration: The legless cripple being prepared for the act. The
second artist is made up as the cripple’s double.]
At this juncture the producer stepped forward with the legless cripple
mounted on his self-propelled wheeled truck, from which he was lifted.
The principal actor now got up and left the scene. The cripple took
his place in the road, and the artificial legs were laid against
his stumps in a natural position. Care had to be taken that the
cripple occupied exactly the same position as that of the actor he had
displaced, so that no sign of the substitution could be observed on the
film.
The cab was now backed to its former starting point and then
re-started, the chauffeur making it follow the tracks made by his
wheels on the former journey. As the automobile reached the point where
it had stopped in the previous picture, the camera started working
again, and the cab ran over the prostrate cripple, cutting off both his
legs--in reality displacing the dummy limbs and tumbling them across
the road.
Suddenly awakened in this rough manner, the sleeper beholds his severed
limbs with dismay, and then hops after the vehicle which had been the
cause of his disaster. The cab stops, the doctor alights, picks up the
severed limbs, and, while the cripple is seated on the ground, restores
the displaced artificial limbs to their natural positions.
The camera now stopped working once more. The cripple was restored
to his wheeled carriage and transported out of the picture, while
the dummy legs were thrown on one side. In the place of the cripple
the principal actor reappeared, and when the camera started again it
photographed him sitting upon the ground. He is helped to his feet and
resumes his journey.
In this picture we have seen two “stop and substitution” movements,
once when the principal actor was withdrawn from the scene to make way
for the legless cripple, and again when the reverse change was made.
Owing to the neat and skilful manner in which the change from the actor
to the cripple, and back from the cripple to the actor, is effected,
the public fails to observe either the stop or the substitution, and
thinks that one man acted the rôle throughout. The fact that the
accident occurs on the high-road, and the possibility of a man being
run over in this manner, helps in the deception.
The “stop and substitution” movement is probably practised more
extensively than any other artifice in cinematography. In picture
dramas where a situation is presented such as the throwing of the
villain over a cliff, or before an approaching train, or some other
scene impossible to picture without sacrifice of life, the camera
is stopped immediately before the incident. The actors engaged in
the scene become rooted to the spot when the “stop” call is given,
signifying the fact that the camera has ceased its purring. At this
juncture the villain disappears from the picture, a lay or dummy figure
being substituted for him. When the camera resumes operation the
episode is completed with the dummy.
Perhaps the best example of this expedient is that represented in the
film illustrating the “Fountain of Youth,” a version of the fable in
which a beggar woman is transformed suddenly into a beautiful maiden by
the kiss of a young gallant of good heart. A chivalrous young prince is
strolling through a wood when he is confronted by an old and wrinkled
witch, who makes supplication to him. In an instant the audience
realises that her sombre garments have left her for brighter attire,
and that the haggard face has been converted into youthful beauty.
This wonderful transformation is worked by recourse to the “stop
and substitution” action. After the “stop” call is given and while
the lens is closed by the shutter the hag leaves the scene, a young
actress, suitably attired, assumes her position, the actor retaining
his position while the change is effected. As the new actress assumes
the exact pose of the witch when the camera starts again, there is a
complete continuity of action recorded, and the audience cannot detect
that a pause and change has taken place between the two consecutive
pictures.
The “stop” movement is, as a rule, the secret to all instantaneous
disappearances. It enables people in the scene to vanish and reappear
apparently from space. It explains the wrestling match, in which
the audience is startled to see that the challenger has disappeared
suddenly--leaving his antagonist wrestling with the air--only to
reappear just as startlingly in another part of the picture. When
the time arrives the “stop” call is given. The disappearing actor slips
out of the scene, while every other holds the position in which he has
been caught by the last exposure. When the camera is re-started and the
actors continue their movements, the wrestler proceeds as if gripping
an opponent. When the “stop” call is given again a little later, the
elusive opponent steps into the picture once more, assumes a suitable
attitude, and his movements are continued when the camera resumes
operation.
[Illustration: THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.
The film is stopped between pictures 2 and 3 to permit the actress to
change her costume.]
[Illustration: PUMPKINS RUNNING UPHILL.
This unusual effect is obtained by running the film backwards through
the projector.
THE “STOP AND SUBSTITUTION,” AND “REVERSAL OF ACTION” TRICK PRACTICES.]
The power to stop the camera and arrest the action at any point
provides the trick-film maker with boundless possibilities which are
denied to his contemporary behind the footlights. On the legitimate
stage the sudden disappearance and appearance has to be made through
a trap door, and, no matter how smartly the operation may be
performed, the public nevertheless sees the action taking place. In
the moving-picture record not the slightest trace of the movement can
be noted. The actor is seen in one picture and is missing from the
next. He appears to have dissolved into thin air, and his reappearance
is just as magically produced. This mystification of the public is
rendered all the more complete by the environment in which the action
is photographed. When performed by a magician or illusionist on the
stage, the public naturally thinks that it has been effected by the
medium of a trap door or some other artifice. When the magic takes
place in the public street, where no such trick facilities exist, the
natural surroundings lend the last touch to the illusion.
Another class of picture which causes considerable speculation as
to how it is contrived is that in which all natural action becomes
reversed. Horses, cabs, omnibuses, motor-cars, and cycles run
backwards, pedestrians walk backwards, and smoke, instead of escaping
from a chimney, appears to flow into it. Everything is topsy-turvy: the
laws of gravitation appear to be defied. This novel result is produced
by “reversal of action.” The action may be photographed in the natural
forward manner, but when the film is placed in the projector, the
last picture taken by the camera is shown first, and consequently all
movement becomes reversed.
[Illustration: FIG. 17--THE “EMPIRE” TRICK CAMERA.
It can be turned upside down while the film can be driven both forwards
and backwards.]
Obviously the task could be simplified if the travel of the film
were reversed through the camera during exposure, but in ordinary
circumstances this would involve rotating the handle in the reverse
direction, and cause unsteadiness in the picture. However, the camera
manufacturer has solved this problem. When a reversed motion is
required, the camera may be inverted upon its tripod, both top and
bottom faces having facilities for screwing to the turn-table. When
the camera is set upside down, the handle is rotated in the natural
forward manner, but as the film is travelling backwards past the lens
all movement is reversed. By this means the necessity to run the film
backwards through the projector is avoided. It is not even necessary to
turn the camera upside down now. Some manufacturers provide a second
driving spindle, on to which the handle is slipped and rotated in the
usual manner, the film being caused to travel backwards through reverse
gearing.
Some astonishing and highly ingenious pictures can be obtained in this
manner. For the purposes of illustrating the subject I have taken one
of the most simple results. It depicts a “Pumpkin Race,” in which the
vegetables are seen to roll up a slope, to give one or two preliminary
bounces, and then to fly into the air through an open window. When this
film was taken the pumpkins were thrown out of the window, bounced and
rolled down the declivity in the usual manner, but as the film for the
purposes of the exposure was run backwards through the camera, when
shown on the screen the opposite and apparently impossible effect is
produced.
Some years ago Mr. James Williamson produced a subject of this class
which provoked remarkable hilarity. It was called “The Workman’s
Paradise.” A building was in course of construction, and the bricklayer
duly arrived upon the scene to carry out his task, but he never stirred
a hand. As he stood on the ground the bricks jumped by invisible effort
into the hod and set themselves side by side in the most approved
manner. Then the load rose through the air to the scaffolding; the
bricks fell from the hod to the scaffold floor, and finally leaped into
the air one by one to settle themselves in position upon the growing
wall. Meanwhile the bricklayer surveyed the scene with his pipe in his
mouth and an air of supreme satisfaction.
When the photographs of this picture were taken, the action was just
the reverse of that seen upon the screen. The wall was standing, and
the camera in reality photographed its demolition and the transport
of the bricks to the ground. But the film was run through the camera
backwards, so that the last picture made became the first projected
upon the screen, and so on.