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.