THE PHOTOPLAY STAGE AND ITS PHYSICAL LIMITATIONS
By "the photoplay stage" we mean all that sweep of view which is taken in by the range of the camera, whether in the studios or out of doors. At first this may appear to be of very wide area, but the [scene-plot diagram] (see [Chapter XI]) will give a good idea of space-limitations in staging the picture.
1. Scope of the Stage
To begin with, the actors must be constantly on the alert to avoid "getting out of the picture" while the scene is being taken. Suppose an actor is seated in a reclining chair that has been "set" where the line A cuts it in half, so to speak. If he is leaning forward, he will be completely in the picture. But if he forgets himself and leans back it is likely that the upper part of his body will not appear when the film is developed. To avoid this, the V-shaped lines shown on the scene-plot are actually marked on the floor, in some studios. A piece of strong cord, or sometimes wire, is stretched tightly from B to C and thence to D. Within this V-shaped space the complete set must be made, and within these limits the entire scene is played. In the case of a set requiring more than the ordinary amount of depth, a larger stage is obtained by setting the back part of the scene (or set), as shown by the dotted line E, and laying down a special pair of V lines to cross the permanent ones on the studio floor. When the camera is placed at the apex of this larger V, the picture is, naturally, made many feet deeper, with a corresponding width of background as the lines diverge.
2. Number of Stages Used
As a rule, there are at least four of these V-shaped stages side by side on the floor of the studio in any of the big producing plants. Thus four entirely different sets may adjoin each other; and, as was pointed out in a previous chapter, a director may finish Scene 8 in Set I and move directly to Set II, where the scene "done" may be 9, or any later scene, depending very often upon whether the players will have to make a change of costume or make-up. A careful director will always try to avoid waits by having his scenes set up in the order that will allow him to proceed with as few delays as possible.
In some studios, the fact that walls and ceiling are of glass permits the taking of most scenes, on a bright day, without the aid of artificial light. In the majority of studios, however, all scenes taken indoors are produced with the aid of artificial light, daylight being excluded. Natural lighting, in indoor studios, has been found to be rather unsatisfactory; artificial lighting, with constant experimentation in an effort to produce better "effects," is what is most used today.
3. Stage Lighting
The Cooper-Hewitt system of interior lighting is probably the most used in the various Eastern and West-coast studios. Everyone—at any rate, everyone living in the city—is familiar with the peculiar lights used in many photographers' studios. These Cooper-Hewitt lights seem to be merely large glass tubes that shed a ghastly blue-green tinge over everything, and under which photographers may take pictures regardless of exterior light-conditions. In addition to the Cooper-Hewitt lights, in a studio equipped with that system, there are, of course, various other kinds of special lights used in obtaining certain unusual effects.
In other studios, a brilliant white light is used, rows of overhead lights being supplemented by tiers, or "banks," of side-lights, so that there is no shadow on any part of the set unless it is the specific purpose of the director to have a shadow in a certain place.
One of the big producing plants has two studios—one in which both daylight and artificial light are used, and another, at the top of the building, with glass walls, and a ceiling which constitutes the roof of the building, where every scene is taken with natural light. On a bright day the latter studio is used; if there is no sunlight at all, the downstairs studio is kept busy. On the immense floor of the daylight studio, as many as eight different ordinary sets may be erected side by side at one time.
During the past five or six years, and especially since the Pacific Coast has become a great photoplay-producing centre, more and more "interior" scenes are made on outdoor stages. This method of taking the scenes in a picture has now been reduced to a fine art. The outdoor stages, not needing the artificial lighting systems, have their various overhead and side screens, so that scenes may be photographed regardless of the natural light-conditions.
Frequently the director will put up a special outdoor stage overlooking the sea, or a beautiful garden or landscape, on which to build a certain interior setting planned to have that outlook. Indeed, today, the artificial background for any interior having windows or open doors is unusual. In Jacksonville, Florida, and other southern cities, as well as in California, the outdoor stage is the most used. The outdoor stage is especially useful in taking, let us say, a scene showing the interior of a house supposedly during a heavy storm, with the rain beating against the windows and being dashed in at the door when it is opened. On the exterior stage, such a scene can be taken at almost any hour of the day, and with the screens to dim and diffuse the rays of the sun, and the skillful use of an ordinary hose in the hands of the property-man or assistant director, a very realistic storm scene can be secured. Many extremely realistic rainstorm effects can also be arranged for exterior scenes, and as for lightning—sheet, forked, or any other variety—it is one of the easiest things to "get" imaginable. The mere scratching of the negative film with a pin, throughout the number of frames covering the flash of the lightning, the scratching, of course, being in the shape the lightning is to take, makes it possible to have thrillingly natural stabs of fork and chain lightning just where it is needed in any scene. You need never hesitate to call for a lightning storm if your story warrants one at a certain point.
A practical point in favor of the outdoor stages is that there is a tremendous saving in the company's bill for lighting. Besides the cost, the outdoor "interiors" are as satisfactory in every way as those made beneath the artificial lights.
It is unnecessary to point out to anyone who has visited the picture theatres that outdoor scenes taken at night are now as common as exteriors photographed at mid-day. Everything from camp-fire effects to night battle-scenes has been accomplished with wonderful results. Interior effects of firelight, moonlight, candle-light, etc, are easily procured, and are usually most convincing and sometimes exceedingly beautiful, when taken in conjunction with the setting.
4. Rehearsals of Scenes
Different studios have different rules for preventing so much as the possibility of there being some fault with the photography when a certain scene is "done." In some studios the rule is to take every scene at least twice, or even three times. When the films are developed, the one which is not only clearest and sharpest photographically, but which shows—even though by ever so small a difference—the best action on the part of the players, is kept, and from this the positives are printed. In other studios, each scene is taken only once at first; and if the film proves to be faulty the scene must be retaken, even though a day or so later. In every studio, of course, each scene is rehearsed before being "done." Sometimes running over the scene once or twice is sufficient, while other big scenes may be rehearsed fifteen or twenty times. Not only to obtain the best effects in action and grouping is a scene rehearsed many times, but repeated goings over are often necessary in order to change the action slightly, or to cut it down so that it will run only a certain number of seconds, each sixty seconds representing, approximately, as many feet of film.
5. Respect for Stage Limitations
At all times you must keep in mind the limitations of the photoplay stage. If you have the picture eye, as described in [Chapter X], you will be able to see just what you can, and can not, write into a picture so that it will register. If it does not register, it might better not have been written. As Mr. Sargent once said, "Pretty nearly everything is possible to the camera, but not all things are practicable." In the same article, he gave a practical illustration of camera limitation that should guide photoplay authors in determining what not to write:
"Suppose you've written a chase scene. A band of horsemen dash through the picture. The hero is wounded and falls from his horse, rolling to the side of the road. The pursuers thunder past and then the heroine comes in and rescues the hero. This is photographically possible, but not practical. The dust and the smoke will create a haze that will dim the end of the scene. It can be done by letting the hero lie while the dust settles, the camera being stopped meanwhile, but unless the scene is strong enough to repay this trouble the script will be passed over in favor of one that can be made without so much fuss."
Almost every day, directors and cameramen—especially cameramen—risk life and limb in an effort to secure some novel scenic effect as a background for their pictures. It should be remembered, however, that what the director may choose to do when it comes actually to taking the scene has nothing to do with the scene as you write it—so far as the actual background is concerned. Do not demand that the struggle between the sheriff and the leader of the cattle rustlers must take place upon just such and such a kind of precipice. You may be certain that if the situation is a strong one the producer will spare neither time nor pains to secure the most perfect setting it is possible for him to obtain.
The moving picture camera, it is well to remember, is of no light weight when set up on its massive tripod. The cameraman cannot place it in position to take all the pictures that you might be able to take with a snap-shot camera held between the hands. The body of the camera, without the tripod, may be placed upon the overhead beams in a studio in order to get some novel scenic effect below; or a special platform may be built for camera and operator when the director is determined to get a scene on the side of a cliff, where no neighboring cliff or rocky platform was furnished by nature; but when the director goes to such pains as these to obtain an effect there is a reason, and generally the reason is an unusually strong story that justifies special effort on the part of all concerned in its production.
Mr. William E. Fildew, one of the foremost screen cameramen, long associated with director William Christy Cabanne, says in The Moving Picture World:
"As to what constitutes the greatest difficulty in the making of motion pictures, I should reply the insecurity of the tripod in the making of outdoor scenes. Exteriors require the greatest amount of attention from the cameraman because of the varying light and shade and the mobility of the camera itself and its liability to accident. The location chosen by the expert may be all that is desired, and there may be a whole lot of trained performers, but you can't get a trained camera. The tripod must be nursed like a contrary child. It must be firmly set." Mr. Fildew speaks of the difficulty he had, on one occasion, when he was obliged to follow the progress of an express train while operating his camera from an aëroplane, they being constantly buffeted by pockets of wind, while flying for many miles at a low altitude in order to keep within the desired focus. He cites another case, when he was photographing the sea scenes for the Fine Arts picture, "Daphne and the Pirates," the waters outside San Francisco Bay being chosen for the locale. A pirate ship crew was to board a merchant ship, and a big battle to follow on the latter's deck. A heavy storm came up just as the two ships came together, and Mr. Fildew, 120 feet up in the air, holding to a mast that swayed like a pendulum, was compelled to go through with what was a most difficult and dangerous piece of work, which, however, resulted in some exceptionally fine scenes. In these instances, of course, it was a matter of the director's planning almost everything just as he wanted to take it; the point we insist upon is that it is better to write certain difficult scenes more in the form of a suggestion than as if it were absolutely necessary to take them just as you have visualized them. Not a few successful writers try to think of two different ways in which an important part of the story may be "put over." Thus, just as an off-hand example, you might suggest that the running fight between the bank robbers and the police may take place in a couple of automobiles or in an auto and a locomotive. Rest assured that the director will provide the locomotive instead of the second automobile if he can procure one.
Watch the pictures on the screen and you will see what effects are produced; and it follows that if a thing can be done once it can be done again. But will it be worth while in the case of your story? This is a point that you must determine before venturing to specify that particular effect. Do not be carried away by the fact that it is your work. Weigh the importance of that scene and compare it with the dramatic value of the scenes which precede and follow it; if the scene with the unusual and difficult effect is the big scene of an unusually big and interesting story, write it in. The chances are that the director will be only too glad to stage it according to your original idea. But do not ask him to waste his time or the company's money in producing a scene the expense and bother of obtaining which is out of all proportion to the importance of the rest of the picture. And do not forget that the camera, wonderful as it is, cannot and does not do everything that it seems to do. In other words, do not mistake an effect produced by trick photography for one that is merely the result of exceptional care and work on the part of both cameraman and director.