SHOOTING A SCENE.

Hokitika Guardian, 8 November 1924, Page 4

SHOOTING A SCENE.

HOW MOTION PICTURES ARE MADE. (By Gilbert Maul.)

“Are you', ready? . . . Then ‘shoot’!” yells the director to the cameraman. The players get into motion, and the cameraman turns the handle of his camera, in a few minutes the set (which has probably taken some considerable' time to rehearse) is

photographed, and the powerful arclamps are shut off. And so another few hundred feet of film is completed

for the big picture. Our Australian climate resembles that of California, and, so the American film experts tell us, is ideal for motion picture photography. In view

of this, it is surprising that Australia has Hot built up a thriving motion picture industry. In America the making of motion pictures Inis become

one of the richest and most power!ul forces in the country, and gives employment to hundreds of thousands of people. But, whereas in the U.K.A. lilm companies are prepared to expend huge sums of money towards perfecting their pictures, in Australia what companies do produce motion pictures seem unwilling to risk any financial outlay. Until somebody comes along who is cottrageos emiiiglt to put the industry on a sound financial looting, Australian films are foredoomed to failure. For to successfully sell a lilm that film mu-t be perfect enough in detail and construction to appeal to the public taste and to belie popular criticism. And undoubtedly the lew films that have been produced in Australia have held much that courted criticism. Thev have been weak in detail, faulty iu construction, and the producers seem to have closed their eyes when casting their characters. When these faults come to he remedied, one may eunlidciitly look iorward to the time when Australia will he definitely on the map as a motion picture producing country which will be all achievement indeed.

The person who pays his few shillings to enjoy a lilm in a Sydney theatre would he truly amazed if he knew the vast amount of time, trouble, and expense that has gone to make the story that moves across the silver sheet. I was interested enough in the possibilities of the industry to apply for a position as a “walker-on” tor a certain Australian company. 1 got it. and m.v impressions may la* worth the setting down.

One is initiated as a motion picture actor iu a somewhat di.-agrceable fashion. The face and hands if photographed in their natural state become a dirty black when the lilm is developed: so that all uncovered portions of the body have to he "madeup” with grease paint-—usually a \ol|ow tint to a bright llesli colour. Ibis art of “ making-up ” then has to be leai lit. and the learning is often detrimental to one's temper and clothes. The scenes I Look part in were supposed to be glimpses of a fashionable ball, and the players were all arrayed iu full evening dress—an incongrous undertaking with the bright sunshine Hooding through the windows of the studio. Th'-re mis perhaps a bundled men and million drawn up lor inspection by the director, who strutted about in his shirt sleeves, with a cigar in his mouth and a megaphone under his arm. The players were instructed iu their parts, and warned against a very natural vanity to dance as close to the camera as possible and gaze into it. Then the jazz orchestra struck up, and the eight of ten huge are-lamps were turned on. .Metaphorically speaking, the are-lamp is the most disagreeable fly in the ointment of motion-pic-ture making. To “ shoot ” a successful interior very brilliant lighting is essential, and every corner of the scene has to lie illuminated by powerful violet-ray lights, which give one momentary blindness. I know now how film actresses manufacture their “tears” for the screen, for the after

effects of these are-lamps are most painful, ami the tears stream down

one’s cheeks for many an hour after

this baptism of lights. But there is a remedy for most ills, and the* experienced actor annoints his eyes with cliop-ped-up potato peel after a day at the studio, which eases the inhumation. To get on witli the story. When the cameraman has focussed the camera, the director, as 1 said, yells “ Shoot!” and the work begins, i’lu' players dance, the director shouts his orders through u megaphone, and the are-lamps whirr noisily. In a lew minutes the set is finished and n welcome rest is ordered. So the day goes on, set after set is rehearsed and completed. The star players go through their parts, and are taken in “ close-

ups.” changing their facial expressions as the story demands it. And (‘hanging them extraordinarily well, too, be-

fore the camera, which is relentless in

its faithful reproduction of tlie smallest detail. The mere actor is laced with a conundrum as lie watches one set after another being filmed. It seems totally inconceivable to the lay mind that such totally diverse sets will ever he arranged into the proper sequence of a story. Yet the sets are pieced together and sub-titled by experts, and the completed film is a revelation of ingeniousness. It is essential when acting in a mo-

tion picture to move slowly. For instance, if the hero ol the play has to pick no a glass of water from a table, he doesn’t lling his arm forward and grill) the glass, as one would imagine. He moves him arm, slowly and gracefully, and carries the glass to his mouth as deliberately as possible. The film actor’s path to fame is paved with strenuous work, and lie must l>e endowed with more than a fair share of brains. But, as the American income tax records show, success on the films is well worth achieving.