THE RISING TIDE
"Well, that's very good, so far," said Mr. Pertell, when there came a
lull in the taking of the preliminary scenes of the marine film. "A
little more life wouldn't have hurt any, but the conditions aren't just
the best. It was fairly well done."
"Huh! Fairly well done!" exclaimed Pepper Sneed. "I wonder what he
wants, anyhow? I nearly broke my neck scrambling over those rocks, and
the skin is all gone from the palms of my hands, and all he says is that
it was 'fairly well done!' I wonder what he wants, anyhow?"
"Ha! He vants dot you shouldt altogedder preak your neck, ain't it?" put
in Mr. Switzer. "Dot vould be a real funny picture, alretty yet!" he
went on in his favorite character of a Dutch comedian. "Preak your neck,
Mr. Sneed, und let Russ make der picture."
"Ha! I think I see myself!" exclaimed the "grouch," as he looked for a
seaweed-cushioned rock whereon to sit. "There's been a lot of trouble
today, but, mark my words, there'll be more before we have finished.
That's all I've got to say," and by the sour look on his face anyone
would have thought that he rejoiced in his prediction of trouble to
come.
"What is the matter now?" asked Ruth, coming up in time to hear part of
the discussion.
"Oh, Pepper is sure the world is going to come to an end before the
public has a chance to see him in his great rescue act of 'Out on The
Deep,' I guess," replied Paul Ardite. "Cheer up!" he added. "The worst
is yet to come."
"You're right there," agreed Mr. Sneed, darkly. "There'll be an accident
before this day is over, mark my words!"
"Oh, Alice, are you hurt?" asked Ruth quickly, as she saw her sister
limping toward her, for the little scene in which Alice had slipped and
hurt her ankle, had taken place when Ruth was busy in another part of
the play, farther down the shore line.
"It isn't anything," the younger girl answered, bravely keeping back an
exclamation of pain.
"Will you be able to go on?" Mr. Pertell asked. He had followed Alice,
when the scene closed, and when he had stopped Paul in time to prevent
the photographs from being spoiled.
"Oh, yes, I can go on, of course," Alice said, with an effort.
"Because you have some important parts yet to do," the manager
continued. He was not as heartless as this sounds. Really he was most
kind and considerate. Yet he knew the pictures must be made and the
present was the best time. If there were a delay, there was no telling
what might intervene.
He knew that Alice herself realized this. She would not give up unless
positively unable to go on. The general public little realizes how often
those who entertain them do so under positive pain and suffering. Of
course moving picture scenes can be postponed more easily than can those
in a real theatre. But the general rule holds good for the movies, as
for the legitimate. "The show must go on!" That is the watchword of
manager and player alike. "The show must go on!"
"I have a bottle of arnica with me," said Mrs. Maguire, the "old lady"
of the company. "I heard we were to do some rock-scrambling today and I
brought it along. I'll rub some of it on your ankle," she said to Alice.
"Yes, doctor her up a bit," advised Mr. Pertell. "She's too important to
be left out of the film, for a while at least. I don't want to force
you, Miss DeVere," he went on, "but really----"
"Oh, I'll be able to go on," Alice bravely said. "It is only a little
wrench, I think."
Behind a screen of rocks Mrs. Maguire removed Alice's shoe and stocking,
and the motherly old lady and Ruth bathed the injured foot. It was not
as bad as Alice had feared, and when it was bound up again she found she
could use it by "favoring" it slightly. She would not have to take part
in a scene for nearly an hour, and she took advantage of the rest
afforded by the wait.
Meanwhile Mr. DeVere and some other members of the company were going
through their parts. An old fisherman's hut had been found, a little way
down the beach, and for a small sum of money the grizzled old salt had
agreed to vacate for the morning, and allow the moving picture actors to
use his home as the background for several scenes.
"It isn't just what the scenario calls for," said Mr. Pertell, "but we
can switch things around at the studio later, to make it fit."
This is a secret of more than one film. The producer takes advantage of
things as he finds them. Often, after a film has all been planned, and
the pictures are being taken, a chance accident, or incident, will
suggest an advantageous change, and it is made on the spot. Later the
film is "cut" or added to, so that the change fits in.
Again, on going to the outdoor scene called for in the scenario, the
manager may see a background that suits him better than one he intended
using. On the spot he will stop and have the act take place there,
altering, or adapting, the plot of the story to fit. And many an
accident has been turned to good account in making a film. But these are
secrets known only to the initiated, and the public that sees the
finished picture in some theatre little realizes how much chance had to
do with its making.
Scene after scene was "filmed," Russ and his camera associates grinding
away at the machines. It was not easy work, for the wind and spray often
interfered with the clearness of the picture. But of course that only
added to the reality of it when the finished picture was shown.
"Now for that scene on the far rocks," called Mr. Pertell when he had
brought to a satisfactory conclusion a difficult part of the drama. "Are
you able to go out there, Miss DeVere?" and he looked anxiously at
Alice.
"Oh, yes, I'm much better," she answered.
"All ready then!" called the manager. "Russ, I want one or two
'close-up' views in this, so prepare yourself accordingly."
"All right," answered the operator, who was talking to Ruth. He put in a
fresh reel of film, and adjusted the camera.
A "close-up" view, I might explain, is one taken with the person, or
subject, very close to the camera, so that it appears very large--larger
than usual. For instance, it might be necessary, in some play, to show a
certain ring. The hand of the person, with the ring on the finger would
be held close to the camera, so that the resultant picture on the screen
would show every detail of the ring clearly. You have often seen such
views in moving pictures, though you may not have known what they were
technically called.
The "rock scene" that was to be filmed now was to take place out on a
little rocky group some distance from shore. It was reached by a long,
narrow rocky ledge that curved out into the bay. Alice, Ruth and Paul
were to be in this picture, and Russ would plant his camera on the rocky
ledge, between the actors and the shore.
"Can you walk out there, Alice?" asked Paul, as he stepped along beside
her, Russ walking with Ruth.
"Oh, yes," was the answer. "My ankle is much better now. It was silly of
me to slip that way."
"You couldn't very well help it," he said.
"That seaweed is very treacherous. I hope there is none on the rocks out
there."
"Why?" she asked. "Is the water deep?"
"Rather, so that fisherman said."
"Well, I'm not going to slip," declared Alice.
It was not easy work getting out to the group of rocks on the narrow
path of black stone, made slippery by the spray. But they managed it,
and finally Ruth, Alice and Paul took their places.
"All ready," called Mr. Pertell, who, with a copy of the scenario in his
hand stood back of Russ to direct matters. "You are all supposed to be
talking together, and then Paul discovers a sail out on the bay. You
register surprise, Paul."
"Very good," answered the young actor.
I might explain that the word "register" is used to indicate that an
actor or actress is to depict, or go through, the "business" of showing
certain emotions, either by facial expression, or gestures.
"And after Paul sights the vessel, you register hope, Miss Ruth," went
on the manager. "All ready now--begin."
So the filming of that scene went on.
"Very good," complimented the manager. "Just a little more force there,
Paul. Wait a minute, Russ. Do that one bit over."
The scene was started over again, but it had proceeded only a minute or
so before Russ gave an exclamation of annoyance.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Pertell.
"Spring broke," reported the operator. "I'll have to go get the other
camera, and it will take me half an hour to get it in shape."
"Well, we'll have time enough," Mr. Pertell said, with a look at the
sun, which is a sort of god to photographers. Without its beams little
can be done. "I'll go back and help you," said the manager who used to
be an expert operator himself before he rose in the ranks.
"You'll have to wait a bit," Russ called to Ruth, Alice and Paul. "Got
to fix another camera."
"All right. We'll stay here," announced Alice. "I don't want to make
that trip again with my lame ankle," and she sat down in a niche of the
rocks. The others followed her example. The minutes passed quickly in
pleasant talk, but presently Paul jumped to his feet. There was alarm in
his action.
"What's the matter?" asked Ruth, startled.
"Look!" he said. He pointed toward the shore. The path of rocks was
broken midway by a stretch of water. The tide had risen, cutting off the
retreat to the beach.