Bill isn't a very high-brow name, is it?
Nevertheless my friend Bill has a forehead so lofty that I wonder how he happened to be born without snowy hair.
Until I subpoenaed him to a photoplay of the highest order recently, Bill hated motion pictures. Since then he hasn't hated the pictures; he has merely ridiculed them. My excellent entertainment turned out to be jumping-jack show, Here's the why:
The operator, says his controlling exhibitor, has a 10:58 date with a friend girl, while the controlling exhibitor had an 8-reel programme and a lot of announcements. Everything proceeded at schedule speed until the lad cut into the five-reeler for the finale. My friend and I had entered a moment before. Just then, too, Romeo Operator glanced at his watch. Not for nothing had he pitched for the Crank Turners in their memorable 11-inning game with the Ushers! His wound-up arm began to unwind, and as it twirled in tremendous drives around the curves and appalling bursts of speed on the stretches, my perfectly good photoplay splattered against the screen and rebounded to our eyes in galvanized fragments of heads, arms, legs, bodies, scenery, motors, furniture, sky, ocean and mechanical impediments which made us almost tumble from our seats in sheer dizziness.
My friend the unbeliever said nothing until we reached the sidewalk. Then he suddenly clasped my hand with a warmth and fervor which were suspicious.
"Thanks for the treat!" he exclaimed. "I had expected to be merely bored. I didn't look for an indoor joy ride. I had all the sensation of falling over the cliff in a Ford, and being pinched by a speed-cop at the bottom!"
Bill hasn't been among the leaping shadows since. Thoroughly outraged, I've been asking the picture manufacturers what may, or may not, be done to stop picture racing, an evil existing mainly in cheap, poorly-run theatres, but which once in a while pokes its sinisterly rapid head among the seats that retail at a quarter or a half a dollar.
Every manufacturer of consequence has answered the long-sufferer's appeal, and their comments are of extraordinary interest.
First of all came the reply of Nicholas Power, probably the world's foremost manufacturer of projection machines. Says Mr. Power:
William Wright, vice-president of Kalem, says: "On numerous occasions we have remonstrated with exhibitors, and from their attitude I am led to believe that a certain class of theatre-owners consider that they must give their patrons a certain number of pictures -- that quantity is the sole desire, even if it becomes necessary to grind films out like sausages in order to make good."
Mr. Wright makes an exceptionally good observation when he remarks: "Many theatre owners appear to believe that a comedy may be run through the projecting machine several times faster than a dramatic picture and still give satisfaction. They forget that the director and players had already speeded up the action to comedy tempo, and that further 'racing' in the theatre must result in the loss of characterization and all artistic 'bits'."
Adolph Zukor, president of Famous Players, suggests: "These improvements in projection should be recommended to every individual exhibitor, and to exhibitors collectively through such agencies as their municipal, state and national leagues. The fact that programmes are crowded is no excuse for racing projection, as any public, intelligent and otherwise, will undoubtedly prefer fewer reels operated in such a manner that their full value can be appreciated."
"Several months ago," writes Thomas H. Ince, "I raved over this very situation that Photoplay Magazine has taken up. I personally called on some of the managers, and in most cases was politely but firmly informed that the operators absolutely knew their business, and that they would personally had been praised by their patrons for wonderful projection as well as for wonderful theatrical management. In our larger theatres, and in a great many of the smaller ones -- those run by intelligent showmen -- the projection is not only excellent, but at times well-nigh perfect. But I do know this by first-hand observation: that there were not a few motion pictures houses in which, on Saturdays, Sundays and holidays, the exhibitor instructs the operator to 'get it over as soon as you can.' Result, fresh nickels and dimes from an increasing number of shows -- an all-wrong policy meaning disaster to that particular exhibitor in the end."
Here is an interesting observation from Mr. Ince: "If I have a scene in a story in which I want tempo and action increased I project it slower -- twelve or even ten pictures to the second. Then, when projected at the normal rate of sixteen pictures to the second, I get exactly the fast action that I need."
David Wark Griffith says: "I believe that in most cases the exhibitor is mainly desirous of pleasing his patrons, and if he appears to be running his pictures too fast to suit some people, it is probable that his fast runs are made because his patrons like to take their pictures that way. So far as it is an evil, I believe it will naturally correct itself in time."
In the opinion of E.D. Horkheimer, of Balboa: "It's the old story of merchandising. In the old days a glass of peanuts was sold for a nickel, and the glass in the seller's hand looked like a fruit-jar, but the bottom was so thick that when the contents were turned into a bag the small boy found he had about half as much as he had bargained for. The same old trick with new variations is played upon the innocent customer every day. It applies directly to the exhibition of pictures, and to those exhibitors who pretend to give a great deal in a very short time. Where the 'slick' exhibitor makes his mistake is in considering the patron a picture ignoramus. He's not, by any means. He has learned a lot about pictures -- he knows something of action, light effects, perspective, photography, properties, costuming, continuity; pretty soon he'll tell the manager of his favorite theatre what he knows about film racing. Then somebody will wake up!"
Edwin Thanhouser believes that "This very serious fault could be obviated by turning the projectors by electric power. It would be a simple matter to make an adjustment of speed gears on the motors so that they could readily employed all pictures properly. It would help, too, if the manager watched his screen, and insisted on his operator grinding at the proper speed."
From William Fox: "I believe it rests with the manager of the theatre as to whether he will give his films proper projection. I congratulate Photoplay Magazine on opening this discussion, and I sincerely trust it will win the co- operation of exhibitors throughout the country in its laudable campaign."
William A. Brady, George K. Spoor, Ira M. Lowry of Lubin's, R.A. Rowland of Metro, and Alexander Beyfuss of the California Motion Picture corporation express themselves firmly on exhibitoral responsibility.
In fact, only two manufacturers declined to give this pertinent topic any consideration.
K. Owen, "Joy-Riders of the Theatre," Photoplay Magazine, November 1916, pages 72.
© 1998, David Pierce, on editing and revisions (if any)
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