Showing posts with label film history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film history. Show all posts

Sunday, February 1, 2015

The World’s First Movie Studio—So Cramped it Was Named for a Paddy Wagon




On February 1, 1893 Thomas Edison completed construction of what was the world’s first film production studio building to accommodate making product for his new money-making project—ultimately the public exhibition of films employing his recently patented Kinetoscope.  The building, literally a tar paper shack on the grounds of Edison’s laboratories at West Orange, New Jersey, was nearly as innovative as the camera and exhibition equipment it was meant to accommodate.  May be more so since Edison had no more than broadly conceived the devices and left development to his employee William Kennedy Laurie Dickson and had returned from the  Exposition Universelle in Paris in 1889 and incorporated advanced features of systems developed in France by  Étienne-Jules Marey and Charles-Émile Reynaud.  In his patent applications and the intense publicity campaigns that followed, Edison, true to form, took sole credit.
The building—more of a shed, actually—was slapped together on a wood frame, its exterior walls and ceiling covered in black tar paper.  A slanting roof over the filming chamber was hinged and could be raised to admit sunlight, necessary because none of Edison’s electric lights were bright enough to accommodate indoor filming.  The whole thing was built on a turn table so that the open roof could catch the light of the sun all day as it moved across the sky.
Construction had begun in mid-December of 1892 and did not take long taking into account interruptions for normal New Jersey winter.  Edison’s meticulous records show that it cost a grand total of $637.67 to build.  That’s about $15,275 in current dollars or roughly the cost of a home garage.
It was an uncomfortable place to work.  Cold and drafty—virtually unheatable when the roof was raised—in the winter and a stuffy, sweltering hot box in the steamy summers.  Officially Edison named the building the Kinetographic Theater although no films were ever exhibited there.  Informally he called it the Doghouse.  The underpaid employees who worked in it uncomfortably in had an even less flattering name—the Black Maria, after a common nickname for a police patrol or Paddy wagon.
Production began almost immediately on short—a few seconds to just over a minute long—films intended not yet for commercial exhibition but for publicity purposes to when the public’s appetite.  Edison had no thought of trying to tell stories. For him the thrill would be in simply the novelty of seeing photographic images move.
Edison had already demonstrated short films he had shot outdoors.  In May he demonstrated film produced in the Black Maria for the first time at the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences.  The public could view—one at a time—a clip of three men pretending to be blacksmiths—by peering into the eye piece of a Kinetoscope machine.

A Harpers Weekly illustration of filming in the Black Maria.

Dickson was placed in charge of production at the studio.  In August of 1893 he sent the first film to the Library of Congress for copyright protection—a few second of Edison employee Fred Ott sneezing.  This was also a promotional film and stills from it were published in Harper's Weekly accompanied by a suitably breathless article on Edison’s latest triumph.
When the Holland Brothers agreed to exhibit Edison’s product at their Kinetoscope Parlor at 1155 Broadway in New York City, production ramped up of clips for commercial exhibition.  Among the earliest efforts which we loaded into two rows of five Kinetoscopes included titles such as Barber Shop, Blacksmiths, Cock Fight, Wrestling, and Trapeze.  500 patrons plucked down 25 cents to view the marvels on opening day, April 14, 1894.
The idea caught on and more Kinetoscope Parlors were opened in cities across the country.  

A San Fransisco Kinetoscope Parlor.

Over the next few years Edison would churn out hundreds of short films, both actualities filmed on the street of daily life and clips made in the Black Maria.  Edison invited a parade of dancers, jugglers, circus performers, boxers and wrestlers, vaudeville and Broadway stars to make the trek out to New Jersey.  Many were flattered and others took advantage of the publicity associated with having their name attached to the latest fad.  Several performers from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show including Annie Oakley herself and Sioux Ghost Dancers were filmed.
Other famous films included the Butterfly Dance by Annabelle Whitford which was enhanced by hand tinting and The Kiss featuring plump Broadway stars Mary Irwin and John Rice.

The Kiss, Edison sell sex in 1896.

In 1901 Edison allowed, somewhat reluctantly, the exhibition of his films by projection on a screen in Oberlin, Ohio.  As usual, the French had beaten him to it and he was worried that they would enter the American market so he developed his own projection system.  The innovation made Kinetoscope Parlor obsolete almost overnight.  To accommodate demand for production suited for the screen, Edison made his first film with a plot, The Great Train Robbery in 1903 in the process inventing the western movie and creating the first movie star, Bronco Billy Anderson.
The Black Maria was rendered obsolete for production for the screen.  Edison built a new glass roofed studio in New York and abandoned the old shed in 1901, shortly after the first screenings.  The building was unsentimentally razed in 1903 and its lumber recycled for other use at the laboratory complex.
It was recreated in 1938 for the movie Edison, the Man starring Spencer Tracy and re-erected on the Laboratory ground near the original site.  The National Park Service, which maintains what is now the Thomas Edison National Historical Park, has since built and maintains a replacement reproduction.


Sunday, November 3, 2013

Godzilla Arrives




On November 3, 1954 Godzilla strode out of the sea for the first time and scared Japanese movie goers senseless.   The science fiction film was produced by Toho studios and directed by Ishirō Honda featuring special effects by Eiji Tsuburaya.  The lumbering dinosaur-like monster sank boats, terrorized peasants and made a mess out of Tokyo.

The special effects were impressive, but not up the standards mastered in the American films years earlier by stop action animation wizard Willis O’Brien.  Only one brief scene used that expensive technology.  In the bulk of the movie Godzilla was portrayed by a man in a rubber suite rampaging through a miniature landscape and city.  But technical proficiency was not the reason for the films enormous popularity in its home country and its soon world-wide influence.

Producer Tomoyuki Tanaka said, “The theme of the film, from the beginning, was the terror of the [Atom] bomb. Mankind had created the bomb, and now nature was going to take revenge on mankind.”  Ten years after the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki the Japanese were processing the experience through a cheap monster movie.

Director Honda made that clear when he explained why the monster was nearly indestructible, “If Godzilla had been a dinosaur or some other animal, he would have been killed by just one cannonball. But if he were equal to an atomic bomb, we wouldn’t know what to do. So, I took the characteristics of an atomic bomb and applied them to Godzilla.”

In the end, the monster was destroyed by an even greater weapon than the Bomb—the scientist/creator makes sure to burn his notes and commits suicide by cutting the air hose to his diving suit after the super weapon vaporized the monster so that it could never be used again.

The film was only shown in Japanese language cinemas in America, but attracted the attention of poverty row Jewel Pictures, which bought US rights.  They edited in scenes and narration by Raymond Burr as an American reporter covering the story and released the film as Godzilla King of the Monsters in 1956.  This is the only version most Americans have ever seen.  The original film finally did get a limited release with English subtitles in 2004.

The American version was also released back in Japan and became a hit on its own—part of the Japanese fascination with all things American despite—or perhaps because—of the war and the bomb.

Godzilla influenced films across the world.  Soon dinosaurs like creatures were menacing London, Rome, and American cities.  They were joined by a wide variety of other giant critters including ants in Them!, an octopus in It Came From Beneath the Sea, the self-titled Tarantula, and grasshoppers in Beginning of the End. And that is just the short list of mid-‘50’s American monster movies.  

Humans became giant monsters themselves when exposed to radiation in other films, including The Cyclops, The Amazing Colossal Man, and Attack of the 50 Foot Woman.

Meanwhile back in Japan Toho studios did brisk business in other monster movies and Godzilla sequels.  After the first film they were shot in color and the special effect technology was ramped up to include more sophisticated stop action animation.  There were 27 sequels.  And over time, as post-war Japan prospered and grew confident as a world economic power, Gozilla morphed into a kind of hero, protecting the islands from the menace of other giant monsters ranging from the Smog Monster to King Kong.  Hero or not, Tokyo kept taking a beating in the ensuing battles.

Although the movie originally opened to at best mixed reviews in its home country, it has come to be regarded as a classic.  Two contemporary national surveys rate it as the 20th and 27th best Japanese film of all time respectively.  British film magazine Empire rated Godzilla as the 31st of the Best Films of World Cinema in 2010.

In 2008 American writer/director Roland Emmerich reconceived Godzilla for a new generation used to modern computer generated special effects.  The monster was slimed down and stripped of its back plates and let loose on New York City and a haplessly miscast Mathew Broderick.  The flick predictably made a ton of money but was justifiably hated by the critics and reviled by true fans of the original.

Now Legendary Pictures and Warner Bros. are reading a new version of Godzilla for scheduled release next spring.  They promise to return to the monster’s roots in this retelling.  We’ll just have to wait and see.