The Characteristic Features of Hollywood’s ScenographicalStylization

(1930-1939)

by Bassim Sannah

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

(Department of Media Sciences)

at theRuhr University of Bochum

June 21, 2004

Some titles of bibliographic records are shortened throughout this study as the following:

AC American CinematographerAV Communication Review Audio-Visual Communication ReviewIP International PhotographerJSMPE Journal of the Society of Motion Picture EngineersJSMPTE Journal of the Society of Motion Picture and Television EngineersPR Psychological ReviewSA Scientific AmericanTSMPE Transaction of the Society of Motion Picture Engineers

Table of content 1 Introduction 4 2 Film Scenography: familiarization with the field 10 2.1 The process of image-sound juxtaposition 15 2.2 Hollywood’s Film Scenography: a period of formation 22 2.3 Definition of the Classical Scenographic Space 32 2.4 Analysis of 1930’s Film Scenographical Stylization 53 3 Status of the Scenographic Space in classical photoplay 95 3.1 Canvas art and the Film Scenography’s pictorial application 101 3.1.1 The Scenographic Space’s narrative composition 109 3.1.2 Quattrocento Pictorial Art and the Film Scenography 121 3.1.3 Impressionism and Film Scenography 125 3.2 Stereoscopic Perspective in the spatial configuration 128 3.3 Mobile compositional image framing 136 3.3.1 The screen’s surface data 143 3.3.2 Horizon-Eye Line 145 3.4 Interior Scenographic arrangement 149 3.5 Exterior spatial organization 172 4 Hollywood’s cinematography: a historiographic background 186 4.1 Conventional Hollywood cinematographic stylization 189 4.2 Camera-Angle 194 4.3 Fluid-Camera: spatial representation 204 4.3.1 Reframing: Panning Shot 209 4.3.2 Tracking-Dolling: Perambulator camera shot 211 4.3.3 Zoom shot 214 4.3.4 Tilting shot 217 4.3.5 Crane shot 218 4.4 Camera lens: focus and exposure 220 4.5 Orthochromatic-Panchromatic emulsion 228 4.6 Technicolor process and aesthetic cinematography 235 4.7 Sonic Perspective: acoustic control 243 4.8 Illumination effect and the Scenographic Space 249 4.8.1 High-Key: flood lighting the set 258 4.8.2 Direction-Selective light 262 4.8.3 Low-Key illumination: diffused light 267

5 Scenographic Space-Beholder: the interaction discourse 270 5.1 The illusional filmic space 281 5.2 Aesthetic Triangle: summary and conclusion 291 5.3 Final redaction 298 6 Appendixes 302 6.1 Appendix A 302 6.2 Appendix B 308 6.3 Appendix C 314 6.4 Bibliography 318

B y 1 933, 10 Million unemployed were registered. Lifestyles (art, social, psychological) were affected by the Stock1

Ma rk e t Crash; see Ulrich Gregor and Enno Patalas, Geschichte des Films 1895-1939. Vol. 1, München: VerlagsgruppeBertelsmann 1976, p. 205; about the historical and social backgrounds and effects of photoplay between 1927 and 1947;see Pierre Norman Sands, A Historical Study of the Academy of Motion Picture Art and Sciences 1927-1947. Ph. D. Diss.,U n i v e rs i t y o f Southern California, September 1966 (Rep. New York: Arno Press 1973); thanks to the Roosevelt “NewD e a l -Politic”, by 1934, the U. S. market began to recover, see: Dieter Prokop, Hollywood Hollywood: Geschichte, Stars,Geschäfte. Köln: Verlagsgesellschaft 1988, p. 120.

During these years, a great number of Hollywood stars also found themselves in a regression of their careers where they2

c o u ld not adapt to the new film-tech (sound film), such as: Asta Nielsen, Gloria Swanson, Emil Jannings; cf. AdolfH e i n z l meier, Bernd Schultz, and Karsten Witte, Die Unsterblichen des Kinos: Stummfilmzeit und die goldenen 30erJ a h r e . B d . 1, Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch 1982, pp. 26,64&71; George Fitzman was a talented director int h e s i lent period, but with the advent of talkies he couldn’t conform, see Charles Higham, Hollywood Cameramen:Sources of Light. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press 1970, p. 138.

“Rise and fall film”: Expressed that wealth and high life style proved incapable of making anybody happy, and instead3

brought just sadness; whereas the “confession movies” which emerged following the ‘True confessions school ofliterature,’ were about girls who had to use their torsos in order to keep their jobs during the Great Depression inA me ri c a ; see Howard Mandelbaum and Eric Myers, Screen Deco: A Celebration of High Style in Hollywood. New York:S t . Martin’s Press 1985, pp. 81&82; see also Arthur Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies. NewY o rk : Ma c millan Publishing 1957, p. 137; Gerald Mast, A History of the Movies. Indianapolis: Pegasus 1971, p. 230;“ S h y s t e r Mo v i e s ” dealt mainly with lawyers, newspapermen and politicians from the corrupt underworld; cf. AndrewB e rg ma n , W e ’r e in the Money: Depression America and It’s Films. New York: Harper and Row 1974, p. 18; HowardMandelbaum and Eric Myers, Forties Screen Style: A Celebration of High Pastiche in Hollywood. New York: St. Martin’sPress 1989 (Introduction); like “office sets, open spatial conception” emerged in the silent film period and continued intothe 1930's.

1 Introduction

At the end of the 1920's, the world was greatly affected by the introduction ofsound into the motion picture, and by the New York Stock Market Crash thatoccurred in October, 1929. The outcome of these two events refashioned the1

film industry for decades to come. Hollywood was influential enough to reflectthe impact of the Great Depression in the United States. Hollywood’s presencewas greatly notable during the critical times of the 1930's. Film historians eventoday reflect on the Golden Age Decade.

T he world-class Hollywood of the 1930's exercised its own distinctiveconvention of film-making (film style). Hollywood’s filmic stylization regressedduring the transition from silent to sound film, because the balance between the2

image and the new technological breakthrough (sound) was not in unison.Throughout this time, the new film style was characterized by:

a. Art Deco, chic, heyday film scenographic style, which was introduced incanned theater, office sets, or open spatial conception, of the Moderne of“rise and fall” motion picture in addition to the “confession movies” (fallenwomen) and “shyster” films. On the other side, Hollywood’s3

cinematographic interpretation demonstrated eye-catching cameramovement, and multiple-camera takes. The newly adapted story tellingstylization was concentrated on tracking the action by chasing the charactersthrough corridors and aisles, which induced a notable degree of spatial

Close consideration was taken regarding the relationship between the “transitional years” and the mechanical innovation4

o f t h e A me rican film industry by: David Bordwell, Janet Staiger and Kristin Thompson, The Classical HollywoodCinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960. New York: Columbia University Press 1985, pp. 298-308; see alsoMy ron Osborn Lounsbury, The Origins of the American Film Criticism 1909-1939. Ph. D. Diss., University ofPennsylvania 1966 (Rep. New York: Arno Press 1973).

See Anson Bailey Cutts, Homes of Tomorrow in the Movies of Today, in: California Arts and Architecture, Vol. 545

(N o v ember 1938), pp. 16-18; Hollywood’s film Scenographic artistry in the form of Streamlined Moderne whichi n t e rmi n g l e d with traditional and Early American styles, refashioned the architectural as well as the scenographic worldi n Lo s A n g e l e s a t the time; cf. David Gebhard and Harriete von Breton, Los Angeles in the Thirties 1931-1941. LosA n g e l e s : Hennessey & Ingalls 1975 (2 Ed. 1989), p. 96&97; Three Sets From the Picture “Shall We Dance”, in:nd

C a l i f o r n i a Arts and Architecture, Vol. 52 (October 1937), P. 30; Howard Mandelbaum and Eric Myers, Forties ScreenStyle: A Celebration of High Pastiche in Hollywood. New York: St. Martin’s Press 1989 (Introduction).

The newly adapted cinematographic style was concentrated upon depth cue representation of the space. Spatial aesthetic6

a n d d e e p focus cinematography were portrayed in a paradigmatic way in the classical photoplay during the 1930's. Cf.D . B o rdwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Film Production

to 1960, pp. 341-349.

A l fre d Krautz, Film Szenographie und Kostümbild: Kommentierte Quellen, aus Theorie und Praxis des Films. Hsg.:7

Betriebsakademie des VEB/DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilme 2/1980, p. 5.

5

depth. Likewise, the camera may start by a close-up and follow by a full shot,or p an to re-frame a moving composition. Four years of this mood ofstorytelling were called Hollywood’s transitional years and endured until1931. By the early Thirties, re-framing a composition along with the mobilecamera techniques allowed Hollywood to control the spatiotemporalcontinuity and lend to the screen image a sense of the novelty of depth cue.4

b. From the mid- to late Thirties, conspicuous film scenographic balance wasachieved by the introduction of Functional spatial organization, followed byUltra-Modern mingled with “Early American” or traditional styles. It did not5

take long until the new film style met the high expectations of the tutoredbeholders of the classical screen, and was in accordance with the new talkingimage. Hollywood cinematographers, by then, started exploring with depthcue representation, faster films, various lenses and with the newly improvedlighting units, throughout the 1930's.6

For a better understanding of Hollywood’s scenographic stylization during theGolden Age, we disclose Alfred Krautz’s account, in pointing out the absence ofa sufficient body of literature in the film scenographic field:

‘ Die B erufsgruppen der Szenographen ... gehören zu denen, für die es kaumwissenschaftliche Grundlagen in Bezug auf die ideologisch-ästhetischenW irkungsabsichten ihrer Arbeit gibt. Es existieren weder Nachschlagewerke ...noch methodische Darlegungen der ästhetisch-künstlerischen Aufgaben.’7

As a fundamental in the film, the term Scenographic Space should be defined

Spatiotemporal interaction may conclude in a single scene, or it might obtain variable possibilities: ‘physical time,’8

‘manipulated time,’ ‘contiguous space,’ or ‘extended space.’ See Calvin Pryluck, Sources of Meaning in Motion Picturesa n d T e levision. Ph. D. Diss., Department of Speech and Dramatic Art: University of Iowa 1973 (Rep., New York: ArnoPress 1976), pp. 174-177.

The beholder responds to the visual stimulus presented by the camera on the screen; see Julian Hochberg and Virginia9

B ro o k s , Th e Perception of Motion Pictures, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook ofPe rception: Perceptual Ecology, Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 296; ‘Cinematography’ outlined JohnR o b e rt Gregory, ‘is the process of fixing on film the images which carry the communication.’ See John Robert Gregory,S o m e Ps y c h ological Aspects of Motion Picture Montage. Ph. D. Diss., Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois 1961, p.3 ; s ee also Edward Branigan, What Is a Camera? In: Patricia Mellencamp and Philip Rosen (Ed.), Cinema Histories,C i n e m a Practices. Los Angeles: The American Film Institute 1984, pp. 87-107; John Arnold, Cinematography-Professional, in: W. D. Morgan (Ed.), The Complete Photographer. Vol. 2, New York: National Educational Alliance1942, p. 754.

6

more clearly. The interaction between the spatiotemporal, film style andscenographic organization, should be analyzed in form, function, aesthetic, aswell as in accordance with the technological breakthrough. Spatial8

Illustration 1: Interaction cycle: Scenographic Space-beholder

ext ernalization inspires in the film beholder a full range of emotions andthoughts. The Scenographic Space-beholder relationship can be only attained bythe participation of the cinematography as a transformance aesthetic sign. By9

maintaining this, we are dealing with a communicational equation of an aesthetictriangle (cycle, Illustration 1).

When the spatial stylization of the film Scenographer is signified by ambiguityand complexity, the interaction between the Scenographic Space and beholder

"Mental set” was termed by Gombrich as an expectation of the beholder; see Ernst Hans Gombrich, Art and Illusion:1 0

A S t u d y i n t h e Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York: Bolingen Foundation 1960 (2 Ed., New York:nd

Kingsport Press 1961).

R e spectively, the following papers have extolled the motion picture’s aesthetical aspect along with its enhancement1 1

o f t h e f i lmic narrative; Vladimir Nilsen, The Cinema as Graphic Art. Tr. by Stephen Garry, New York: Hill and Wang1959; Nilson’s analysis could be seen as being among the most authoritative analysis regarding the motion picture’sa e s t hetical conceptualization; James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: AV Communication Review, Vol.1 (1 9 54), pp. 3-23; George Amberg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New YorkTimes 1972; Rudolf Arnheim, Film as Art. Berkeley: University of California Press 1967; Calvin Pryluck, Source ofM e a n i n g i n M o tion Pictures and Television. Ph. D. Diss., Dept of Speech and Dramatic Art, University of Iowa, July1 9 7 3 , (R ep. New York: Arno Press 1976); David Bordwell/Kirstin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading,Ma s s a c h u s etts: Addison Wesley 1979; Louis Gianneti, Understanding Movies. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall 1972 (1976, and 3 Ed. 1982); Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. Newrd

York: Macmillan 1953; Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963.

7

disintegrates completely, after which the beholders’ mental set declines, even10

t o t he degree where they may no longer concentrate on the dramatic actionpresented in the picture (they may begin watching their neighbors, snacking, oreven dozing in their seat).

Based on this concept, European and American scholars have emphasized theimportance of the film scenography. Specifically, studies and critiques of theclassical film style are incomplete without film scenographic knowledge. It isclear, although, that any theory about the film as a “set of signs” had not beenformed without utilizing one aspect of the film aesthetic; otherwise, these filmtheories would not have any exceptional quality. Hollywood’s spatial concept11

of the Golden Age has an immediate correlation to the aesthetic principles ofclassical pictorial art, which granted film scenography a lawful narrative meaningto its beholder.

The following tasks are seen in the classical spatial stylization:a. Narrative source to the beholder.b. Interpretative guide toward the picture’s message. c. Highly effective means of sustaining the pictorial communication (screen image-beholder).

Correspondingly, these tasks make it clear that the most observed narrative roleof the film scenography is partially covered, but shifting into the background.With regard to the communicational stream “Scenographic Space-beholder,” itis distinct that this form of communication consists of three basic foundations:

Scenographic Space (Source)Cinematography (Transformance aesthetic sign)Beholder (Cycle end)

Yet the question regarding the interrelationship between the scenographicorganization, cinematographic treatment and beholder has not been yet

To mention a few instances in this regard such as: the spatial code of the stage’s dramatic art in the late nineteenth1 2

c e n t u ry a n d its impact on Hollywood’s early motion picture spatial conception; the influence of the GermanicEx p re s s i o n i s t motion picture school on Hollywood’s film scenographic development; the contribution of sound to thep h o t o p l a y ’s continuity editing after the introduction of dialogue into the motion pictures, in terms of adding newp o ssibilities to the image-beholder narrational stream; and also special effect development and its use in the ScenographicSpace alongside the new possibilities of sound, and its influence on the communicational stream (screen image-beholder).

My representation of the interaction cycle (Scenographic Space - Cinematography and Beholder) is based on the most13

s i g n i f i c ant of the following works: Siegfried Kracauer, From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological History of the GermanFi l m . New Jersey: Princeton University Press 1947; David Bordwell, Janet Staiger, Kristin Thompson, The ClassicalHollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960 (among the most informative of literary works regardingH o l l y w o o d n a rrative codes); Rudolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley:U n i v e rsity of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974); Jan Mukarovsky, Structure, Sign, and Function: Selected Essays Bynd

Jan Mukarovsky. Tr. and Ed. by: John Burbank and Peter Steiner, New Haven: Yale University Press 1978; Andre Bazin,Qu-est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 ( Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What is Cinema? Vol. 1, Berkeleya n d Los Angeles: University of California Press 1967); Ray L. Birdwhistell, Kinesics and Context: Essays on Body

8

ext ens ively discussed. Today, it is certainly no longer controversial that thespatial organization (as the cryptogram of the film Scenographer of Hollywood’sGolden Age) had its own concept, mode and own distinguishing trademarks.Holly wood, along with film historians, should be appreciative of the filmScenographers’ contribution to the film style. Furthermore, Hollywood’s filmScenographers of the 1930's and beyond belong to the motion picture’s mostcelebrated artists of the film production team, yet they are the leastacknowledged individuals, despite their aesthetic responsibility of lending apicture its most distinctive visual style.

This study deals with Hollywood’s spatial code, its relation to the narrationalstream, and its impact on the beholder’s mental state. Certainly there are otheraesthetic signs of the motion picture resting beyond the scope of this study, someof which were developed throughout the history of the filmic practice; each ofthese aesthetic signs deserves an independent dissertation.12

An introduction to this study is founded on the points of: the film scenographyof the 1930's, and the process of image and sound juxtaposition (Chapter 2). Inaddit ion, further spatial analysis should be used as a term of referenceclassifying the interior and exterior Scenographic Space, and their compositionof the classical Hollywood photoplay (Chapter 3); it will be fundamentallynecessary to enlighten the technique of the spatial representation in relation tothe aesthetical, technological and historical context (Chapter 4). Finally, Chapter5 will focus on the scope of the pictorial communication, image-beholder, andits psychological structure.

Treatment of the above formulated concept was profoundly structured anddeepened after being related to such unique discussions as disclosed in the worksof: Jan Mukarovsky, Siegfried Kracauer, David Bordwell, Rudolf Arnheim,Andre Bazin, and Ray L. Birdwhistell. An investigation such as the one proposedabove has never taken place in German literature.13

Motion Communication. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press 1970.

Sketches are the subject of this investigation, which are mostly stationed at some American archives, such as: Academy14

o f Mo t i o n Picture Arts and Sciences and Academy Foundation/The Margaret Herrick Library, Southern California (wheremo s t of Paramount, Radio Keith Orphium (RKO), and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM’s) reference materials are located).U n iversity of Texas at Austin, Humanities Research Center, where a great deal of Willian Cameron Menzies’ sketchesa n d f i l m scenography are present; and the Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Columbia University, New York, wherea significant portion of Joseph Urban’s collection is currently located.

I have compiled a list of films essentially from the following sources: The American Film Institute Catalog of Motion1 5

Pi c tures Produced in the United States: Feature Films 1931-1940. Berkeley: University of California Press 1993; J.V e rmi l y , T h e Films of the Thirties. Secaucus, New Jersey 1982; The 1996 Movies Unlimited Video Catalog. 18 Ed.,th

P h i ladelphia, PA: Movies Unlimited 1996; Ronald Bergan, Graham Fuller, and David Malcolm, Academy AwardsWinners. London: Prion 1994; Microsoft Cinemania: Interactive Movie Guide. Microsoft Corporation 1992.

9

Sketches, along with their interpretations from Joseph Urban, Hans Dreier,14

Carroll Clark, Richard Day, William Cameron Menzies, Charles D. Hall, AntonGrot and Cedric Gibbons, will impart a contemporary discussion to the Europeancontinent for the first time. Historic and qualitative fundamentals are the basisfor the compilation of films. My intentions will be described in detail by thisFilm List.15

Mukarovsky, Kracauer, Bordwell, Arnheim, Bazin, and Birdwhistell were allhelpful references in the examination of filmic communication.

F i l mausstatter and Filmdekorateure are currently used for the same purpose in Germany, in film as well as in the stage1

scenographic field.

See Helmut Weihsmann, Gebaute Illusionen: Architektur im Film. Fulda 1988.2

With this, the essential film Scenographers in Germany called themselves “Filmarchitekten” or “Film-Szenenbildner”;3

s e e Film+Television Design Annual: Jahrbuch des Verbandes der Szenenbildner, Filmarchitekten und Kostümbildnerin der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. 6 Jahrgang, Regensburg: Aumuller Druck 1992/93.

Alfred Krautz, Filmszenographie und Kostümbild: kommentierte Quellen, aus Theorie und Praxis des Films. Hsg.:4

Betriebsakademie des VEB/DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilme 2/1980.

Ev e n t o d a y , this terminology is still being used in contemporary Hollywood film production; see Terence St. John5

Ma rn e r a n d Mi c hael Stringer, Film Design. New York: A. S. Barnes 1974; Oregon: Film & Video Directory. Portland,O re g o n : O re g o n Media Production Association 1995; the structure of the art department hierarchy in Hollywood is asfollows:

1. Production Designer -William Cameron Menzies was the first in Gone With the Wind (1939)- is responsiblefo r t h e p i c t ure visual stylization, and to represent consistent film scenography throughout the film; the jobd e fi n e s a l s o t he main camera shots on paper, the tonal treatment in accordance with the dramatic action, aswell as the characters’ composition.2. Art Director: reports to and assists the Production Designer.3 . (1 -2 or more) Unit Art Directors: support the Art Director, and have their assistants: One is responsible forthe period and style research, and the second is responsible for color and light of the film.4 . A v e ra g e of two (or more depend on project size) Assistant Designers: both Assistant Designers supervisethe setting construction (carpenters, painters, light technicians, iron workers, sculptors, color and furniture).5. Script Supervisor: is responsible for furniture positions, costume details, takes continuity notes and pictures,d e t a i l a bout the consumable objects (e.g., how full a glass of water is allowed to be, or cigarette length). Ina s ma l l p ro j e c t, dressing the set is usually done by the film Scenographer; see Leon Barsacq, Le Decor deF i l m. Paris: Editions Seghers 1970 (Tr. by Michael Bullock and Ed. by Elliott Stein, Caligari’s Cabinet andO t h er Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design. Boston: Little, Brown 1976), pp. 163-172; Barsacq/Stein’swork belongs to the early and dependable papers on the film’s scenographic field in general and Hollywood’sS c e n o g ra p h ers’ work and life in particular; see also John Koenig, Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore: BaltimoreMuseum of Art 1942; and John Harkrider, Set Design from Script to Stage, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 29, No. 4(October 1937), pp. 358-360.

2 Film Scenography: Familiarization With the Field

In t he film scenographic field, both German and English languages causeconfusion by utilizing a varying terminology relating to the creativity of thescenic externalization: Filmausstatter, Filmdekorateure , Filmarchitekten , Film-1 2

Szenenbildner , Filmszenographen ; the corresponding English terminology is3 4

no different: Production Designer, Art Director, Set Designer, and SupervisoryArt Designer . The elusiveness of these terms in both languages in the credits of5

foreign films leads to mistakes in the depiction of the main task of the filmscenographical field. Alfred Krautz addressed this question:

‘Sollte man sich wie in dieser Publikation auf den Ausdruck Szenograph

Alfred Krautz, Film Szenographie und Kostumbild: komentierte Quellen aus Theorie und Praxis des Films. Hsg.:6

Betriebsakademie des VEB/DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilms 2/1980, p. 30.

Richard Griffith, Anatomy of a Motion Picture. New York: ST. Martin’s Press 1959, P. 86.7

Edward Carrick, Moving Picture Sets: A Medium for the Architect, in: The Architectural Record, Vol. 67 (January-June8

1930), p. 440.

11

einigen, der in den meisten Europäischen Ländern gebräuchlich oderverständllich ist. Dazu ist allerdings der Zusatz ‘Film’-oder ‘Fernseh’-nötig.’6

Krautz’ suggestion provides the proper definition regarding film scenography,and elaborates upon what has been considered elusive for a long time.

When dealing with a setting, the film Scenographer has the task of translating thedreams of the society into forms, lines, perspective and tonal values. A set maychallenge the beholder’s curiosity during the filmic communication, or perhapsmay lead to questions relating to the spatial interpretation. No matter how longor short the duration of a picture, the film’s spatial arrangement has its meaning;whet her consciously or unconsciously it is always perceived. The filmScenographer is one of the most important members of the film team since a filmcannot be produced in an empty space.

By definition, film scenography is understood as a selection of scenes for a film,and the organization of the characters’ surrounding. Plot (Syuzhet) and therevival of the spatial arrangement are two equal dramatic means correspondingt o t he narrative quality of the picture. The film story alone is incapable ofp rojecting authenticity onto the screen because the cinematographic processconveys only ‘what is there, not what someone hoped or imagined or planned tobe there.’7

In t rans lating the beholders’ feeling into creative images, the motion picturedeserves to be an effectual communicational medium yet to be discovered. Tosustain highly dramatic value in the set, the film Scenographer is challenged toinvite simplicity and organic unity into the spatial. The film Scenographer would8

go down every avenue available to secure the maximum artistic quality in the set.This artist does not imitate the visible world, but tries to reconstruct reality in

Mu k h t ar Abd Al-Jawwad, Historical Introduction to the Understanding of Spatial Organization in the Motion Picture,9

i n : C i n e matic Studies, Vol. 1, by the Film Academy, Algiza, Egypt/my translation (January-February 1987), p. 58;i n t h i s s tudy we are mainly dealing with the big American studios, their Scneogrphers and their works: Van NestP o lglase/Carroll Clark (RKO), Charles D. Hall (Universal Studios), Anton Grot (Warner Brothers), Hans Dreier(P a ra mount), Richard Day (Goldwyn/United Artists), Cedric Gibbons and his associates (MGM), in addition to somefre e lance masters of the film scenographic field such as Joseph Urban, William Cameron Menzies, and Lyle Wheeler,w h o a l o n g with their associates contributed remarkably to the Renaissance Age of the classical Hollywood visual style,and invented the most memorable film scenography of the Golden Age and beyond.

D e n i s B a l b e t , The Revolution of the Stage Design in the 20th Century. Paris and New York: Leon Amiel 1977,1 0

(introduction).

S e e G e bhard Helwig, Szenenbild in Film und Fernsehen: Aus Theorie und Praxis des Films. Studienmaterial. Hsg.:1 1

Betriebsakademie des VEB, DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilme 12/1984, p. 13.

L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 125&126.12

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order to become an integrated part of the picture’s narrative quality.9

A scenographic exposition is projected in terms of a spatial interpretation: mise-en-scenes, their forms, colors, light, and shade, in addition to the dramatic actiondepicted within the space. Out of this organization emerges a world that conquersthe beholders’ attention and invokes inspiration and illusion. The structurizationof the filmic spatial is more than an aesthetic depiction; a setting stimulates andopens the idyllic horizon of the beholder. It has the tendency of being simplisticin order to be grasped by its beholder with ease. This means that the mise-en-10

scene serves not only as a frame for the characters, but it influences the picture’sdramatic action as it inspires the action of the characters, or even the concept ofthe director. The film Scenographer should strive toward a certain conceptualwork and hold to a certain discipline in order to achieve the ideal of the picture.A scenographic task must reflect the philosophic impression and the mental senseof the subject matter. In addition, the Scenographer should introduce into thesp at ial organization the sociological background with its history and culturalcontext. All these must harmonize dramatically with one another. A11

scenographic representation should interpret the setting’s occupants’ sociologicaland psychological states. Even before a character is seen, the set should deliverto the beholder information about the characters’ status in the society, and itshould be integrated smoothly with the action. 12

Hollywood’s persistence in its film-making in the 1930's allows a paradigmaticnarrative quality on the screen. This includes its Spatial concept. Hollywood’sscenographical code, I propose, is a part of the classic film identity, and the two

Cf. D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema : Film Style and Mode of Production13

to 1960, pp. 4-5.

D . Bordwell, The Power of a Research Tradition: Prospects for Progress in the Study of Film Style, in: Film History,1 4

Vol. 6 (1994), p. 60.

B y t h e n , H ollywood studios concentrated on an image which was formed from an enhanced depth cue as well as1 5

camera movement in the space; ibid., p. 67.

Ibid., p. 60.16

Calvin Pryluck, Source of Meaning in Motion Pictures and Television. Ph.D. Diss., Department of Speech and1 7

Dramatic Art: University of Iowa 1973 (Rep., New York : Arno Press 1976) pp. 176&177.

S e e Noel Burch, Praxis du Cinema. Paris: Editions Gallimard 1969 (Tr. by Helen R. Lane, Theory of Film Practice.1 8

New York: Praeger Publishers 1973), p. 90.

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cannot be separated from each other. Simplicity and homogeneity characterizethis correlation.

Holly wood film practice from the classic era combined a set of unified andintegrated aesthetic norms. After the arrival of the talking film, Hollywood’s13

production went into its turbulent or transitional period, when film-makers hadnot yet mastered the new medium (sound). This resulted in the aesthetic qualitiesbecoming secondary to film technique. Later in the decade, Hollywood started14

exploring with mobile camera, shooting in depth, and with long takes. Yet in15

its transition to sound, Hollywood film-making was accused favoring sound atthe expense of its aesthetical values. Some filmers’ production continued withthe same aesthetic stylization and quality from the past, but were able to inventnew ways for exploring sound. ‘A series of technical discoveries -closer framing,camera movements, various sorts of editing, the expressive use of setting andlighting- gradually revealed the resources of ‘film language.” 16

With the arrival of sound, film meant the simultaneous juxtaposition of soundand image on the screen. Noel Burch observed the current juxtaposing of image17

and sound a positively accomplished fact. This enhancement of filmic reality18

by the addition of sound to the image relies profoundly on the pictorialvisualization of the image completing the narrative cycle, i.e., the pictorialcommunication. This suggestion coincides with Raymond Durgnat’s indication,that the motion pictures’ architecture contains drama, and the film is the best

A spatial organization may attribute a dream or lifestyle to the film; see Raymond Durgnat, Film and Feelings.1 9

Cambridge, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology 1967, pp. 99&100.

See Pierre Norman Sands, A Historical Study of the Academy of Motion Pictures Art and Sciences 1927-1947. Ph.D.2 0

Diss., University of Southern California 1966 (Rep. New York : Arno Press 1973), p. 4.

C f. D . B o rdwell, Classical Hollywood Cinema : Narrational Principles and Procedures, in :Philip Rosen (Ed.),2 1

Narrative Apparatus, Ideology: A film theory reader. New York: Columbia University Press 1986, p. 31.

D. Bordwell, The Power of a Research Tradition: Prospects for Progress in the Study of Film Style, in: Film History,2 2

Vol. 6 (1994), p. 68.

See also D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema : Film Style and Mode of Film2 3

Production to 1960, p. 53.

14

medium to represent drama and architecture together. Subsequently, the film19

scenograp hy, as the other side of the architectural form, had a significantcont ribution to the dramatic balance when juxtaposed with sound, since themotion picture medium is an image-driven one.

T oward the end of the silent film period, after the institutionalization andstructurization of the film industry, Hollywood was the fourth largest industry inthe United States, with a product that was seen worldwide. After 1917, classical20

Hollywood film-making began influencing the world’s film production, and thelatter’s form of story-telling (happy ending) was an accent that was borrowedfrom the American classic attitude of film production. By the nineteen-forties,21

Holly wood had adapted a new form of practice shot/reverse shot and floodcamera, which were notable and unambiguous representational means in tellingthe story. Yet Hollywood during the Forties presented ‘that the sound cinemawill be that which explores the theatrical and novelistic resources of themedium.’ By the early 1950's, Hollywood preserved a continuation of older22

tradition, i.e., through the narrative quality of acoustic control, adapting samebalance formulae, the centering of the compositional image on the screen, andby defining the filmic space. 23

In summary, film scenography contributes a great deal to the picture’s narrativequality, and without it, the filmic scene is empty and meaningless. None of thebeholders will have an interest in the film without the colorful and attractiveenvironment of film scenography. Should someone assert that the motionpictures’ scenography and its artistic visualization in the film are unimportant,then they are not accurate and compromise the film, because the setting is very

C f. Rosa Lachenmeier and Werner Jehle, Architektur fur die Nacht. Katalog der Ausstellung im Architekturmuseum.2 4

Basel von: 23.11.1990 bis 20.1.1991, p. 80.

Some film chronicles date the Kinetoscope back to 1893; cf. Rupert Hughes, Early Days in the Movies, in: The25

Saturday Evening Post, Vol. 207, No. 40 (April 6, 1935); Daniel Blum, A New Pictorial History of the Talkies. New York:G . P . P u t n a ms 1 9 5 8, p. 7; see also Scott Baldinger, Hollywood Talks!, in: The Editors of Variety (Ed.), The VarietyHistory of Show Business. New York: Harry N. Abrams 1993, pp. 42&43.

Arthur Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies. New York: Macmillan Publishing 1957, p. 124;26

b y t h e p re mi e r release of David Wark Griffith The Birth of a Nation (1915) the picture was presented using the sameme t h o d of sound effect where a symphonic score accompanied the picture’s projection, Ibid. p.125; Knight presented animpressive historical account of the American motion picture industry from its origins to the early 1950's.

15

much a part of the film. The artistic accuracy of the film scenography entertains,and provides the beholder with information about the quality of the film. A24

qualitative spatial configuration may decide extensively on the narrative qualityof the film. It should be tasteful and must always match the action and inform thebeholder. A well planned setting by the film Scenographer may offer inspirationto the untutored beholder, and maintains smooth communication during theunfolding of the dramatic action on the screen.

2.1 The Process of Image-Sound Juxtaposition

Nearly a half-century prior to the introduction of dialogue into the film,experiments were taking place for securing the juxtaposition of image and soundsimultaneously. Arche typically, there had been attempts made with ear tubes forsound recording, followed by Thomas Alva Edison’s ‘Kinetoscope’ and‘Phonograph’ in 1894. Carl Laemmle imported the ‘Synchroscope’ fromGermany for the same purpose. Still, innovations for sounded motion picturescontinued to emerge, like Thomas A. Edison’s ‘Cameraphone’, Dr. Lee DeFores t ’s ‘Phonofilm’ and David Wark Griffith’s contribution of the‘Photokinema’ apparatus, which he had used in Dream Street (1921).25

M eanwhile, however, there had never been an entirely silent motion picture,since film signified a ‘vaudeville or music-hall presentation,’ where musicianstried to accompany them with some kind of appropriate pianistic tone accordingto the musician’s justification. From 1912 forward, large scale “specials” beganemerging from Europe that played sound simultaneously with the picture. 26

Edison was credited as the father of the talking film for his innovations of thePhonograph (for sound recording) and Kinetoscope (for image projection) in the

Rupert Hughes, Early Days in the Movies, in: The Saturday Evening Post, Vol. 207, No. 40 (April 6, 1935), p. 18;2 7

re s p ectively, a great deal of effort was spent regarding the technological breakthrough process of the sound systemsbetween (1888-1928): Kinetophonograph, Chronophone, Cameraphone, Cinephone, Kinetophone, Synchroscope,P h o n o g raph, Phonofilm, Vitaphone, Movietone, Vocafilm, Voiceaphone and the Photophone in addition to their impacton Hollywood transition to sound; cf. John Douglas Gomery, The Coming of Sound to the American Cinema: A Historyo f the Transformation of an Industry. Ph. D. Diss., University of Wisconsin-Madison 1975 (Rep., Michigan: UniversityMicrofilms International 1992), Chap. 2&3.

Thomas W. Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion28

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, pp. 205&206.

J o s e p h M. Valerio and Daniel Friedman, Movie Palaces: Renaissance and Reuse. New York: Educational Facilities2 9

Laboratories Division, Academy for Educational Development 1982, p. 20.

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, p.125.30

16

late years of the nineteenth century. Experiments for recording sound were27

cont inued by various celebrities in the U.S. Among the most significantinnovations was the amplifier (audion tube), which was invented by Dr. DeFores t in 1907. DeForest’s innovation increased the electromagnetic signals,which made radio broadcasting possible. Despite being principally at discoveryfor the radio, it was also a significant turning point for sound recording,transmitting, or reproducing. A decade and a half later, in 1922, Dr. De Forestoffered an additional breakthrough. It was another sound recording systemnamed Phonofilm.28

Meanwhile, the motion picture industry was willing to try anything and everytechnique available in order to make their product more attractive to the publicand thereby ensure a greater box-office return. At this stage in the history ofsound recording, the adaptation of organs in the neighborhood movie houses wasa somewhat practical answer for the juxtaposition of image and sound. It waseconomical, and more easily managed than the orchestra. ‘The elaboratekeyboard and pipes of the grand organ were capable of producing the sounds ofa variety of musical instruments and ensemble, not to mention special effects’.29

Progressively, musical instruments became varied. A large and powerfulWurlitzer had some tremendous changing sound effects, and was accompaniedby a few other instruments in order to sustain the images’ dramatic impact. Oneof its functions was to draw the patron’s attention away from the noise of the filmprojector and the squeak of the seats, but primarily its aim was to cover thewhispers of disgruntled viewers. Increasingly, more instruments were added inthe theater to create a better sound effect and presentation until about the middleof the nineteen-twenties.30

Warner Brothers, in: Fortune, Vol. 16, No.6 (December 1937), p. 111; for more about the historiographical31

b a c k ground of Hollywood tycoons (founders) who emigrated from middle and eastern Europe to America in the laten i n e t e e n t h c entury, their power and their odd policies in the studio system; see Philip French, The Movie Moguls: AnInformal History of the Hollywood tycoons. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson 1969; as well as Ethan Morden, TheH o l l ywood Studios: House Style in the Golden Age of the Movies. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1988; in the proceedinganalysis we will see how the Warner Brothers’ success, by their switching over to sound, contributed to the reshaping ofHollywood’s history and the film style.

Kenneth W. Leish, Cinema. New York: Newsweek Books 1974, p. 31.32

17

In 1883, a Jewish family emigrated to the U.S. from Poland that would alsoprove to be significant in the development of sound in motion pictures. WarnerBrothers’ father was a butcher by trade. He settled in Ohio where he had foursons and two daughters. Popular were: Harry, Albert (Abe), Sam, Jack, and Rose.Harry started a career as shoemaker, while his brothers Sam and Abe undertookshowing movies in the early years of this century. Two years after exhibitions ofmot ion pictures -such as The Great Train Robbery [1903]- the Brothersprogressed in 1905 to further success with the nickelodeon in New Castle,Pennsylvania. Jack vocalized in the pit while his sister Rose accompanied himon the piano. In 1917, Warner Brothers founded their own film company in NewYork, which marked only the beginning of the Brothers Warners’ future empirein the motion picture industry. In Hollywood, the industry and the art form31

together became an increasingly promising prospect going from good to better.Soon after the First World War, American film dominated the motion picturemarket around the world. By then, Hollywood was synonymous with movies, andthe film production center of the world.32

Paramount, Metro-Goldwyn, First National and Fox were emerging as seriouscompetitors by the mid 1920's in the motion picture industry. They, in turn, hadaffect ed the success of Warner Brothers. Warners attempted to escape theireconomical dead-end and dilemma, ‘So they tried sound.’ As a step toward thetransition to sound, in 1925, Warner Brothers signed a contract with WesternElectric under the name Vitaphone to produce sound film. On August 6, 1926,Don Juan was the result of that agreement. The characters’ lines and a musicscore played by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra were both synchronizedwith the film, and the introductory speech of Will Hay, the president of MotionPicture Producers and Distributors of America, was recorded on the film. Thecomedy-drama The Better’ Ole [1926], and the romantic costume drama When

A. R. Fulton, Motion Pictures: The Development of an Art from Silent Films to the Age of Television. Norman:3 3

University of Oklahoma Press 1960, p. 155.

Daniel Blum, A New Pictorial History of the Talkies. New York: G. P. Putnams 1958, p. 11; see also Daniel Cohen,3 4

M u s icals. New York: Bison Books 1984, p.10; see Scot Baldinger, Hollywood Talks! In: The Editors of Variety’s (Ed.),The Variety History of Show Business. New York: Harry N. Abrams 1993, pp. 42-47.

Warner Brothers, in: Fortune, Vol. 16, No. 6, (December 1937), pp. 110&111; it was a turning point in motion picture35

history, in the part- talky The Jazz Singer (1927), when Al Jolson sang and phrased to his mother: ‘come on Ma! Listento’ and ‘you ain’t heard nothin’ yet!’ Jolson’s voice marked the unusual, in which the public witnessed a sounded imagefor almost the first time in film history.

K e n n e t h W. Leish, Cinema. New York: Newsweek Books 1974, p. 68; for further information about the historical3 6

background of the Wall Street investment and interest in the new technological event (sound) of Hollywood studiosb e t w e en (1929-1939); see Lewis Jacobs, The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History. New York: Teachers College

18

a Man Loves [1927], were produced using the same synchronization technique.33

With Western Electric Company’s copyrighted product, the Vitaphone, WarnerBrothers followed with the “All Talking! All Singing! All Dancing!” The JazzSinger in October of 1927. The tremendous success of the part-talky picture haddrawn t he studio’s attention to the profitability of sound at the box-office.William Fox now started joining this new technological event with his ‘Fox-Movietone.’ In mid July (1928), Warner Brothers released The Light of New Yorkin their own New York theater. The melodramatic picture was credited as ‘thefirst all-talking feature film ever made.’ With the introduction of The Light ofNew York into the market, the birth of the talking motion picture began. In an34

article written in Fortune in December of 1937, the editor highly praised thep roduction quality of Warner’s studio. ‘And yet by all movie standards -Hollywood’s, the box office’s, and the critics’- Warner Bros. is conceded tomake very good pictures indeed.’ The Jazz Singer’s success precipitated furtheradvancement for the studio, enabling Warners to edge ahead of the rest ofHollywood’s studios in converting to the talkies. 35

When the very first of all talkies, The Light of New York, earned four milliondollars with a production cost of seventy-five thousand dollars, it was financiallya convincing enough aspect to alert the rest of Hollywood’s studios into eagerlyadapting to the new sound technology. The New Yorker Wall Street financed,and later controlled, this very expensive conversion to the up-to-datetechnological breakthrough. In 1929, approximately seventy-five percent of theU.S. theaters were equipped with sound technology, and by 1930, the transitionto sound was complete. The Baltimore Daily Post credited the pioneer talky,36

Press 1939, pp. 419-432.

The Baltimore Daily Post (September 11, 1928).37

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, p. 129.38

Th o ma s W . Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren With Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion3 9

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 215&216.

Scott Baldinger, Hollywood Talks! In: The Editors of the Variety’s (Ed.), The Variety History of Show Business. New4 0

York: Harry N. Abrams 1993, p. 47.

19

The Light of New York, as a sensational event, that was perceived considerablyby the public, ‘with its fast action and its Vitaphone dialogue. For the first timein t he film industry every character in this film speaks, virtually eliminatingsubtitles.’ Hollywood studios used or abused the new medium (sound track)37

wherever they thought fit in the production, to the extent that some studiosadvertised their pictures as literally having “100% talking, 100% singing, 100%dancing.” In 1929, the advent of talkies gained new dimensions, and the38

exhaustive use of the new technological breakthrough exposed American film-making in its early dialogue period to valid criticism. Sound picture makingbecame more of an artificial than a true art form, distancing itself from the oldaes t het ic tradition. In its early stages, sound was not introduced in a highlyartistic fashion into the screen image. Sound was either exhaustively abused, orthe spoken lines came ahead or behind the character’s plot.

During the early days subsequent to the addition of sound, the microphone’simmobility and over-sensitivity to ambient noise caused somewhat of anightmare for the film production: lights made noise, as well as long fingernailsand shoes, and even the characters’ accessories had to be replaced with rubberrep licas in order to avoid unwanted sound. Filming exterior scenes on thestudios’ lots was an even greater challenge. Some studios outfitted their garbagetrucks with special balloon tires to reduce noise. They even had crew membersstanding with flags on roofs to warn airplanes to stay away. Under limitationssuch as these, film production was limited to almost ten minutes of filming perday. Such critical conditions as mentioned above meant film production on the39

sound stage could be done only under artificial conditions. The camera had to belocked in a soundproof booth to keep the noise of its motor from being recordedwith the actual dramatic action. But the soundproof sheds were tremendously hot,which created constant interruptions every few minutes of the film production.40

Joseph Urban, The Cinema Designer Confronts Sound, in: Oliver M. Sayler (Ed.), Revolt in the Arts: A Survey of the4 1

Creation, Distribution and Appreciation of Art in America. New York: Brentano’s Publishers 1930, p. 242.

20

Amid this period of turbulence in film-making history, Rouben Mamouliandemonstrated a creative approach in his musical drama, Applause (1929). AtParamount, Rouben Mamoulian devised his own way to overcome thesetechnical difficulties. His theatrical background from Broadway helped him tobe inventive on the sound stage. He came up with the notion of putting thesoundproof cage on wheels and moving it around in the sound stage whilefilming. By doing this, Mamoulian mobilized the camera from its fixed location.He went even further with his new idea by employing two recording channels,and disregarding the traditional method of placing the microphone between twosep arate sources of sound to record both simultaneously. By doing this,Mamoulian obtained a so-called sound overlapping, in which one pitch is higherthan the other. In Applause, he employed two microphones, one for the prayerand the other for recording the song: Helen Morgan’s song “lullaby” overlappedher p ray ing daughter’s voice in the background. Shooting in silence andsynchronizing his scenes with sound was another artistic benefit of the camera’sliberation from the restrictions imposed by sound. Mamoulian delivered highrealism in his picture in an age where most film makers were frightened bysound. Coincidentally, King Vidor ventured with the new merger technology(sound) in his musical drama, Hallelujah (1929) at MGM. The musical was thefirst black musical to date. Vidor used the synchronization technique, after heshot silent on location in Tennessee and Arkansas, and added the sound later. AtUniversal Studios, Lewis Milestone’s All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), andErnst Lubitsch’s, The Love Parade (1929) at Paramount, were also shot using thesynchronization technique.

Wit h the switch-over to dialogue, the scenographic configuration gained anadditional narrative quality. The emergence of sound was perceived as a dramaticmeans aiding in the film’s spatial organization, explained the film ScenographerJoseph Urban. ‘The sound picture’ said Urban, ‘brings with it the possibility ofgreater simplicity of setting.’ Howard Hughes, one of Hollywood’s financiers,41

well realized the dramatic depth in the juxtaposition of image and sound. AfterHughes spent about three million dollars on the silent version of Hell’s Angels(1929), he added another million, believing that a sound version of the picturewould make it more attractive. Hughes’ productions of the early Thirties notablyused t he new technical innovation, mixed with tempo rhythm, violence and

The producer and supervisor of Scarface (1932) , Howard Hughes’s success and distinguished landmark production,4 2

was mostly gained during the transition period by employing the sound effect to serve the pictures he produced, e.g., HellsAngels (1930), and The Front Page (1931); see RKO: It’s Only Money, in: Fortune, Vol. 47, No. 5 (May 1953).

Ethan Mordden , The Hollywood Musical. New York: ST. Martin’s Press 1981, p. 37.43

Initially George Cukor was assigned by Paramount to direct the picture. After a dispute occurred between Cukor and4 4

Maurice Chevalier about Cukor’s direction, Ernst Lubitsch took over the direction.

21

beauties, resulting in an outcome that was as distinctive as it was expected. The42

Front Page (1931), or Scarface (1932), both introduced the new technique in away that served and enhanced their narrative quality. Sound medium revealed agreat deal of realism in these pictures on the screen.

Ernst Lubitsch had his own distinguished movie making format. At Paramount,his p ictures were simplistic and were accentuated with a “touch” ‘of archerot icism,’ while Rouben Mamoulian managed a smooth and kaleidoscopicimage balanced with sound. These two simplistic formulas paved a free path forestablishing a new identity for the musical film. Lubitsch’s One Hour With You43

(1932) typically carried the Lubitschian formula of a romantic comedy mixedwith Boudoir and songs.44

Europe’s misfortune with World War I benefitted Hollywood with countlessartists and technicians who contributed to the rise of the Hollywood RenaissanceAge after they settled on the west coast. The film-maker’s flooding of theAmerican continent would continue over the following two decades. Emigresdominated many Hollywood studios, some of which include film Scenographers,directors, characters, and technicians. Paramount had a wide range of Germannewcomers to America, who migrated west to Hollywood, including the studios’chief film Scenographer, Hans Dreier, his associate Ernst Fegte, the directorErnst Lubitsch, the cinematographer Theodore Sparkuh, the scenarist Hans Kralywith his Austrian colleague Billy Wilder, and such artists as Pola Negri, EmilJannings, Marlene Dietrich and the Austrian director Josef Von Spielberg.Whereas Universal Studios had a mix of newcomers, including Karl Freund,German cinematographer. The chief film Scenographer, Charles D. Hall, thedirector James Whale and Boris Karloff were English. These men were the talentbehind making legendary horror pictures. Paul Fejos, the director of Broadway(1929), was Hungarian. Warner Brothers, themselves, came from Poland, as didt heir master Scenographer Anton Grot. Meanwhile other Hollywood studiosresisted having their outlook defined by such European newcomers. MGM, for

Mary Corliss and Carlos Clarens: Designed for Film: The Hollywood Art Director, in: Film Comment, Vol. 14 (May-4 5

June 1978), p. 30; we are mentioning here only a few names from the masterminded and skillful artists whose contributionto the motion picture’s art and history are evidence, and which won’t be forgotten.

S e e Th e Architecture of Motion picture Settings, in: The American Architect, Vol. 118, No. 2324 (July 7, 1920), 4 6

pp.1&2; D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson: The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Productionto 1960, pp. 214-221; ‘Before 1900 it was more or less common practice to do without the elaboration of much furnitureor other set dressing . In fact most of the early picture makers, notably Biograph and Vitagraph, painted part of thefurniture on the canvas walls of their sets. It was a common sight to see a piano with a vase of flowers on top painted ona w a l l . ’ See Earl Theisen, In the Motion Picture Prop and Research Department, in: I. P., Vol. 6, No. 7 (August 1934),pp. 4-5&23.

By then, the spatial organization was drafted by a head carpenter or a scenic artist without previous study, i.e., on an47

o l d envelope or on the studio’s floor, see William Cameron Menzies, Pictorial Beauty in the Photoplay, in: RichardKoszarski (Ed.), Hollywood Directors 1914-1940. New York: Oxford University Press 1976, pp. 241&242.

22

instance, refused to accept this influence. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s scenographicdepartment worked very hard to create the pure Americana landmark and to formthe studio’s own identity. It is rare, therefore, to see something related to theEurop ean Expressionist movement, perspective distortion, painted light orshadow in Metro’s spatial stylization. RKO introduced the same opulence and45

penthouse type of spatial arrangement, as we will see later in the forgoinganaly s is , and we will analyze how RKO and Metro’s artists sketched theirstudio’s trademark “house style.”

2.2 Hollywood’s Film Scenography: A Period of Formation In the early period of filming, a motion picture set was constructed by well-known painters or artists from the stage as an imitation of the theater stage orvaudeville. Mise-en-scenes were painted on the walls in approximate perspectiveand anachronism. In those early years of film production, three-dimensional46

objects were hardly present in the space: ‘little, if any, attention was paid to thebackground.’ When sets were not borrowed from the stage, the action wascontained by featuring three-dimensional objects only around the action, such asa chair, table or bed. The setting’s background was painted on canvas with otherobjects, like book cases, windows and pictures, and when a character opened orclosed the door the entire set shook. 47

During the first decade of the 20 century the film crew had the task of fulfillingth

certain assignments on the set over and above their filming job. The production

G e n e G a u n t i er, Blazing the Trail: A Fascinating and Authentic History of the Early Motion Pictures, in: Woman’s4 8

H o me Companion, Vol. 55, No. 11 (November 1928), p. 170; sometimes the film director was in charge of handling hisp i c tures’ settings during these early days of motion pictures history, e.g., David W. Griffith and Erich Von Stroheim; seeCahrles Spencer, Erte. New York: Clarkson N. Potter 1970 (2 Ed., 1981).nd

Edward W. Townsend, Picture Plays, in: Outlook, Vol. 93 (27 November 1909), p. 704; see also Larry Robinson: A4 9

B ri e f H i s t o ry of USA Local 829, http://www.usa829.org/USA/hitory1.html, accessed June 25, 2003, part one and parttwo.

J ames Hood MacFarland, Architectural Problems in Motion Picture Production, in: The American Architect, Vol. 118,5 0

No. 2326 (July 21, 1920), p. 66.

G e o rg e Mitchell, Thomas H. Ince was the Pioneer Producer Who Systematized the Making of a Movie, in: Films in5 1

Review, Vol.11, No. 8 (October 1960), p. 472.

Richard Dale Batman, The Founding of the Hollywood Motion Picture Industry, in: Journal of the West, Vol. 10, No.52

4, (October 1971), p. 623; Putting the Move in the Movies, in: The Saturday Evening Post (May 13, 1916), pp. 14-15,96-8, 100&101.

23

crew ‘had no property men, no carpenters, no wardrobe facilities’ to performthese particular functions. Even the director had to take care of all the paperworkand other administrative functions. In 1909, Edward W. Townsend illustrated48

t he dat e’s scenographic operation in the production of moving pictures.Townsend commented that a scenic artist and a painter were responsible for thesetting, whereas a stage carpenter was in charge of assembling the set. Threecolor tones, of gray, were applied in painting to the set. Film scenography was49

somewhat unimportant in the film-makers’s view. They hired anyone theycons idered as a handyman to take care of the setting, but increasingly theyrealized that the more elaborate the spatial they organized, the more likely thatt heir p icture would survive. Then the economic progress of film-makingmot ivated Hollywood to invest more in the settings, allowing more three-dimensional objects to be featured in the set.

Up to the Teens, sets were still borrowed from the stage, and spatial constituentswere still painted on the background of the set. Sometimes the entire set waspainted on canvas, that would shake or was at risk of collapsing when a characterslammed the door during the action. In Inceville (Thomas H. Ince’s production50

lot in Santa Ynez canyon), muslin was hung over an uncovered setting in theopen air in order to diffuse the harsh light of the sun. Tarpaulins were hangedover the sets either to protect them from the rain or to dim the daylight in anafter-dark scene. By 1915, Hollywood had established its infrastructures of film51

production for all times. Hollywood had its stars, records of attendance at thebox-office, and blockbuster movies. These fundamentals were founded to remain

Artisans of the Motion Picture Films, in: S. A., Vol. 115, No.10 (September 2, 1916), p. 225; today Civilization’s film53

Scenographer is neither credited nor known!

See Donald Chase, Film making the Collaborative Art. Boston: Little Brown 1975, p.156; C. Blythe Sherwood, The5 4

A rt D i re c t o r i s A ccredited: The Vision That Makes “Dream Street” Come True, in: Arts & Decoration, Vol. 15 (May1 9 2 1 ), pp. 36&37; occasionally I will highlight Joseph Urban’s role and his contribution to the stage, primarily in thisp a per to film scenography , as an acknowledgment to the great master whose deserved place was denied him and escapedattention to date, on both sides of the Atlantic.

See Earl Anderson, Marion Davis, in: Films in Review, Vol. 23, No. 6 (June-July 1972), pp. 326&327. 55

The Fox Film Building, in: Architecture and Building, Vol. 52 (January-December 1920), pp. 53&54; see also Motion-56

Picture Colony Under One Roof, in: S. A., Vol. 210, No. 25 (June 21, 1919), p. 651.

David C. Hill, City Spotlight: Warner Bros. Studios, in: Action West ( 3 Quarter 1996), pp. 4&5; the American unit5 7 rd

24

Hollywood’s property, and would not undergo a major alteration until thenineteen-twenties. Intolerance’s (1916) setting was praised by Scientific52

American as ‘the greatest set that has ever been constructed’ in Hollywood. Itswalls reached 100 feet high. ‘The towers of the set stand 135 feet high, and thevarious structures cover[ed] a ten-acre tract of land in Hollywood,’ and it tookt he construction crew about six months to built the settings. Intolerance’sexpenditure reached a sum of $50,000. Thomas H. Ince’s Civilization (1916) costapproximately about $35,000. Its settings’ construction took from May throughNovember of 1915. Close to 600,000 feet of lumber were needed to construct thepicture’s sets. An amount of glass was used that could cover some 200 windows,and a side walk which reached near 1,200 feet together with all its curbs. Theproject required six and-a-half acres of land to accommodate enough space forthe sets. Skilled men such as Frank ‘Huck’ Wortman and Walter L. Hall were53

in charge of Intolerance’s large scale settings in its four separate periods:Ancient Babylon, sixteenth-century France, Judia, in addition to thecontemporary stylization. By the early Twenties, the job of carrying out a spatial arrangement for a pictures t art ed landing in the hands of gifted artists in related fields. StageScenographers, such as Joseph Urban, started becoming engaged in the planningof those settings. In addition to his activity at the Metropolitan Opera and54

F lorenz Ziegfeld’s theater, Joseph Urban drafted the sets for Enchantment(1921). Joseph Urban’s assignment enhanced the popularity of Marion Davis.Enchantment was credited as a matchless vehicle of Davis to date. In 1920, Fox55

of measure acre=4000 square meters=43560 square feet.

C f. Sheldon Cheney, The New World Architecture. New York: Tudor Publishing 1930, p. 191, fn. 1; respectively,5 8

C h e n e y b e l o n g s to the respected pioneer theoretician of the modern Aesthetic Revolution in the first half of the 20thcentury.

Paul T. Frankl, Form and Re-Form: A practical Handbook of Modern Interiors. New York: Harper & Brothers 1930,5 9

p. 1; see also Emily Genauer, Modern Interiors Today and Tomorrow. New York: Illustrated Editions 1939, p. 14.

Jeffrey L. Meikle, Twentieth Century Limited: Industrial Design in America 1925-1939. Philadelphia: Temple6 0

University Press 1979, p. 19.

25

Film Corporation included a scenographic department in Fox’s new building inNew York City. ‘There [in the new building] will be a variety of shops. One ofthese will be for carpenters, another for artists who make plaster casts for sets,a room for scene artists, three working prop rooms, a sewing room, a draperyroom, a wardrobe department’. The new studio facilities would also include a‘storage space for studio properties and a studio library where informationregarding locations, costuming, etc., will be assembled and catalogued for theconvenience of directors.’ Today the only remaining and functioning original56

scene monuments of those early days are to be seen at Warner Bros. Both the“New York Street”, built in 1923, and the western town of “Laramie Street” fromt he 1930's, are preserved at Warner’s 110 acres of completed facilities of allproduction phases in Santa Monica, California.57

By the mid 1920's, the U.S. officially refused to accept the assertive rules andconditions set by the French for joining the “1925 Exposition Internationale desArts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes”, which took place in Paris and permittedonly creative art. The American authorities’ refusal to the worldwide modern58

convention was clear. ‘Herbert Hoover, then Secretary of Commerce, declinedt his invitation. There was, he [Hoover] explained, no modern decorative artmovement in this country [America].’ During this time, creative art was poorly59

advertised in the United States. When the secretary of commerce rejected theassertive French invitation to the 1925 Exposition Internationale, the modern arttendency in America was towards a redundancy of other cultures’ styles. This60

reality was hard to accept by the American Secretary of Commerce, Hoover, who

It would have been extraordinary if American authorities had sent the modern master, Frank Lloyd Wright, to the Paris61

Exhibition. But, sad to say, no one on the Government’s level even knew much about the great master architect, or cared;S h eldon Cheney, The New World Architecture. New York: Tudor Publishing 1930, p. 191, fn. 1; even among architectsi n t h i s country (U. S.). Later, we will see how notably Wright’s architectural style influenced Hollywood’s scenographicstyle.

S e e H o ward Mandelbaum and Eric Myers, Screen Deco: A Celebration of High Style in Hollywood. New York: St.6 2

Martin’s Press 1985, p. 10.

A rt D e c o heyday style was introduced in the architectural world in the U. S., so some actual neighborhood movie6 3

houses were built in Art Deco style after 1925, e.g., the auditorium of Oakland Paramount in 1931; regarding the moderna rc h i t e ctural tendency in the European movie houses and German architectural superiority and unconventionality in theirs t y l i z a tion compared to their European contemporaries see; P. Morton Shand, Modern Picture-Houses and Theaters.Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott 1930.

Rudolf Rosenthal and Helen L. Ratzka, The Story of Modern and Applied Art. New York: Harper&Brothers 1948, pp.64

158&189.

26

had no less than an inferior feeling when considering the modern art movementin the United States.61

After attending the Exposition Internationale in 1925, MGM chief filmScenographer Cedric Gibbons’ scenographic style was fundamentally influencedand reshaped for two decades to come. With Gibbons’ style alteration, Metro-62

Goldwyn-Mayer’s image on the screen was altered as well. Toward the end ofthe silent film period, after introducing Our Dancing Daughters (1928), and OurModern Maidens (1929), Metro’s scenographic department delivered the soundpicture, Our Blushing Brides (1930), among other landmark pictures of Art Decos t y lization. This trilogy’s spatial stylization was characterized by Art Decoheyday. Metro, RKO, and Paramount’s featuring of the Moderne on the screen,right from the late 1920's, introduced the modern art movement to the Americanpublic. Hollywood continued adapting the new spatial concept, and this lastedthroughout the 1930's. 63

Art Nouveau and Bauhaus styles were two art movements that signified thedream of the manufacturer and mass production. Hollywood’s new film64

scenographic style (Art Deco chic) had its roots in both styles. In introducing thenew style into the studio’s scenography, Hollywood’s Scenographers realized theeconomical and aesthetic advantages of Art Deco. It was practical, providinggreat aid to the film industry’s mass production. After adapting the Moderne forthe screen, each studio of the Golden Age started defining its own method ofartistic interpretation, in order to project the studio’s own outlook on to the

Y v onne Brunhammer, The Art Deco Style. Paris: Baschet et cie (Tr. by David Beeson, New York: ST. Martin’s press6 5

1 9 8 4 ), p p. 7-18; an important portion of modern Art Deco style’s conception after 1925 can be traced in some of earlyre v o l t a r t ’s features from the late nineteenth and the early twentieth century (e.g., Art Nouveau, Cubism, Expressionism,V i e n n e r S ezession and Fauvism as well); cf. Ibid., Lo Stile 1925. Milan: Fratelli Fabbri Editori 1966. (Tr. by RaymondRudorff, The Nineteenth twenties Style. London: Paul Hamlyn 1969), pp. 9-41.

See Bevis Hillier, Art Deco of the 20's and 30's. New York: Schocken Books 1968 (2 Ed., 1985); see also Ibid., The66 nd

W o r l d o f Ar t Deco: An Exhibition Organized by the Minneapolis Institute of Art, July-September 1971. New York: E.P. Dutton 1971, (Introduction); Alain Lesieutre, The Spirit and Splendour of Art Deco. New York: Paddington Press 1974,(In t roduction); and also Cervin Robinson and Rosemarie Haag Bletter, Skyscraper Style: Art Deco New York. New York:Oxford University Press 1975, pp. 35-81.

See ibid. p. 49. 67

27

screen (house style).

When the modern art movements emerged from Europe in the early years of the20th century, they favored the geometrical shape, angularity and the machinableproduct: straight lines combined with an accent of simplicity, organic unity, andpure color. It was a response opposing the conventional arch adornment and theobsessive use of curved lined styles from the past. This motive laid thefoundation for the emergence of Art Deco. Some of these art styles were taking65

place in film scenography before the advent of Art Deco, such as Expressionism,Cubism, the Vienner Sezession, or Art Nouveau.

A closer look at Art Deco of the 1925 Exposition reveals the origins of thismodern movement, which relates to the International Aesthetic Revolution fromthe late 19 and early 20 century. As mentioned earlier, Hollywood adapted thisth th

modern spatial form for the screen, because of its practicality and aestheticefficiency. Evidently, Art Deco provided high dramatic value and true functionalaes t hetic on the silver screen. Art Deco met the artistic expectations ofHollywood’s spatial conception well, and maintained a paradigmatic narrativequality on that screen.

The Glasgow school in Britain and the Wiener Sezession school in Austria weret he original styles that inspired Art Deco. Cubism, Futurism, Vorticism, ArtNouveau, Bauhaus style (Dessau-Germany), Egyptian art (mostly in shape ofpyramid and friezes of ochre and gold), Native Aztec (pyramid and cactus), andAmerican Indian art also contributed to the formation of Art Deco style. Art66

Deco met with Cubism in borrowing ‘the Cubists’ transformation of coherentpicture space into an oscillating surface.’ On the other hand, Art Deco’s relation67

Ibid. p. 57, fn. 59; the dynamic utilization of the Expressionistic form, space, and chiaroscuro light-shade effects were6 8

re ma rk a b l y p o rt rayed in Hans Poelzig’s spatial arrangement in The Golem (1920) ; see John R. Clarke, Expressionismin Film and Architecture: Hans Poelzig’s Sets’ for Paul Wegener’s The Golem, in: Art Journal, Vol. 34 (Winter 1974/75),pp. 115-124.

C f. S ibyl Moholy-Nagy, Experiment in Totality. New York: Harper&Brothers 1950, pp. 33&168; regarding the6 9

A e s t h etic Revolution in Europe together with its correspondence to the new technological innovations in the early yearso f t h e t w entieth century, and it’s progress; see Raffaele Carrieri, Futurism. (Tr. by Leslie Van Rensselaer White, Milano:Edizioni Del Milione 1963), pp. 7-28&120-29.

Erte [Romain de Tirtoff], Things I Remember: An Autobiography. New York: Quadrangle 1975, p. 119.70

Cf. Cervin Robinson and Rosemarie Haag Bletter, Skyscraper Style: Art Deco New York. New York: Oxford71

University Press 1975, pp. 59&60.

28

to the French Fauves and German Expressionistic architecture lies in sharing theuse of vivid color. Therefore, Leon Bakst, the Scenographer and costume makerof t he Diaghilev’s Russian Ballet (Scheherazade), borrowed the bright colorsfrom these two styles, and his work is just as sought after as the originator of thebright color used on his stage. Walter Gropius founded and fathered the68

St aatliche Bauhaus in 1919, in the Weimar Republic, Germany. Bauhausrepresented a core conception of the twentieth century Aesthetic Revolution. AsSibyl Moholy-Nagy identified, ‘The house’ in this modern art movement‘became t he measure by which to evaluate color and structure, space, light,form.’ Staatliche Bauhaus maintained balance between a qualitative applied artand mass production, and that made a revolutionary impact on the state of artthroughout the world. 69

Erte, born in Russia, worked in France, and then Hollywood. He was admiredamong the pioneer Scenographers and costumers. Art Deco’s unconventionality,commented Erte, emerged from the style’s balance between pure and applieda r t . T rue, Art Deco borrowed styles from the past and contemporary art7 0

traditions and gave the resulting combination a new identity of straight lines,angular shape, and color. Its origin, nevertheless, was questioned by some arthistorians, artists, and architects, who came to agree: that the 1925 PariserExhibition was not the birth place of a style. On the contrary, it was the origin ofan ‘eclectic amalgam of styles.’ Art Deco was born in Vienna. From there itmoved to Germany, to the Scandinavian countries, then to Holland, Belgium, andSerbia, before finally culminating in France.71

Meanwhile, the tempo of the twentieth century was in full swing. Technological

See Donald J. Bush, The Streamlined Decade. New York: George Braziller 1975, pp. 15-42; after 1925's Exposition7 2

In t e rnationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes there has been Chicago Century-of-Progress 1933 and NewY o rk World Exhibition 1939. Both events re-introduced Art Deco and Streamlined Moderne to the U.S.; cf. DonaldA l b recht, Designing Dreams: Modern Architecture in the Movies. New York: Harper&Row 1986. (Ubrs. u. hrsg. vonR a l p h Eu e , Architektur im Film: Die Moderne als grosse Illusion. Basel: Birkhauser Verlag 1989), pp.21, 32&34;e v i d e n t l y S treamlined Moderne style must have received wide acceptance in the architectural style, in order for theAuditorium of Philadelphia’s 1938 Chelten Theater to have been built in the same style.

Sheldon Cheney and Martha Candler Cheney, Art and the Machine: An Account of Industrial Design in 20th-Century73

Am e r i ca. New York: Whittlesey House 1936, Chap. 6&7; Donald J. Bush, The Streamlined Decade. New York: GeorgeBraziller 1975, Chap. 1&2; the industrial revolution had also reached the transatlantic routes, where passengers couldc o mmunicate through a radio telephone via the Atlantic to their people or businesses back home, and even to the rest ofthe world; The New York Times (August 3, Sunday 1930).

Kathleen Church Plummer, The Streamlined Moderne, in: Art in America ( January-February 1974), pp. 46&52.74

Ibid. p. 49.75

See Joseph M. Valerio and Daniel Friedman, Movie Palaces: Renaissance and Reuse. New York: Educational76

Facilities Laboratories Division, Academy for Educational Development 1982, p. 28.

29

innovations reached everyone’s life, including Hollywood’s. By the mid 1930's,the geometrical, angular shapes and lines of Art Deco began to disappear, andwere replaced by streamlined form (Art Moderne, or Art Future), i.e., throughsmooth and organic forms. The new style, Streamlined Art Moderne, emerged72

from hydrodynamic, aerodynamic science, and aesthetic principles, whichsymbolized the “Teardrop” and the speed age. But in more cases, it featured theexcellence of life that came in a large quantity of artistic products: airplanes,t elep hones, trains, automobiles, ships, or electrical devices. Contemporary73

science fictions of the 1930's were an additional participant in the formation andemergence of the Streamlined Moderne, observed Kathleen Church Plummer.74

Hollywood was more likely to welcome dealing with fantasies in the production;in fact, Things To Come (1936) may highlight an impressive landmark fantasyof the decade. The picture introduced the accent of Streamlined Art Moderne,which lent a sense of life to the film.

Faking the outlook of the rare material from the Twenties continued to bepopular in the Thirties. Streamlined Moderne found in this copying of theexpensive material’s outlook a great advantage for forming the new style.75

Again, economy, function, in addition to the increasing interest in the abstractform were among the main reasons that contributed to the popularity of theM oderne. Their characteristics were well matched with the machine age thatp laced the Moderne ahead of its predecessor’s styles. In this regard, the76

Cf. Julian Hochberg, Perception. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall 1968. (2 Ed., 1978), p. 156. 77 nd

C l o s e r consideration of the visual perception, and the communicational process with the spatial properties (mise-en-7 8

scenes) will be the focus later on in this investigation (Chapter Five).

30

advance of the manufacturing of the expensive and the rare was the opposite sideof t he coin, and served well the motion pictures’ spatial formula. Expensiveproducts now can be copied and still go unnoticed by the camera, such asLeopard, Cow, Zebra skins, or expensive looking furniture, rugs, friezes, et al.By defining its attributes in the Thirties’ motion picture settings, Streamlined ArtModerne was characterized by curved walls and corners, flat, white and stuccosurfaces. The Art Future had porthole windows (i.e., a circular shaped window),projections in the wall surfaces, with a horizontal accent in terms of grooves orlines. These characteristics were presented persuasively in Richard Day’s dramaDodsworth (1936) at Samuel Goldwyn (see Illustration 71). Day’s set depicteda modern luxury liner ship, and it won Day an Academy Award for the bestsetting of the year. RKO’s Shall We Dance (1937) was another masterpiece byCarroll Clark and Van Nest Polglase. Their ocean liner setting presentedlandmark Streamlined Moderne on the screen. Parallel to these pictures’streamlined form, Hans Dreier and his associate John Goodman planned the setsfor the drama, Miss Fan’s Baby is Stolen (1934). They maintained the outlookof modern and functional aesthetics in their setting. And at MGM, Arthur I.Royce, W. L. Stevens, and Alex de Sakhnoffsky’s Topper (1937), carried thesame accent of the Moderne. In Topper the hydrodynamical products, e.g.,automobiles and elevators, are present. The picture’s spatial organization offeredspatial aesthetics, smooth surfaces, curved walls and bookcases, combined withglass brick and staircase grooves as another variance of the style. WilliamCameron Menzies-Lyle Wheeler’s comedy-drama, The Young in Heart (1938),at Selznick International, continued the same tradition of the Moderne on thescreen.

Julian Hochberg defined ‘The “law” of simplicity’ as: ‘we see what is simplestto see’ and perceive. This canon of perception in its fundamentals applies to77

both styles of modern art movements, Art Deco and Streamlined Art Moderne,because both signify the tendency of smooth surfaces, and clean and straightlines. Abbreviation in the spatial organization and its smooth perception relatest o t he heart of these styles, but also to the general abbreviation of crowdedadornments in the Scenographic Space. Whatever the artistic period might be,78

modern or conventional, artists share the same formulas in creating their

S e e Paul T. Frankle, Form and Re-Form: A practical Handbook of Modern Interiors. New York: Harper & Brothers7 9

1930, p. 33.

Anson Bailey Cutts, Homes of Tomorrow of the Movies of Today, in: California Art and Architecture, Vol. 5480

(November 1938), pp. 16-18.

Raymond Myerscough-Walker, Architect and Perspectivist. London: Spin Offset 1984, p. 26.81

31

p roducts. ‘Mathematical system-arithmetical and geometrical- lies hiddenbeneath the structure of the work of all great artists, painters, architects and[Scenographers].’ This explains the conceptualization behind the Moderne79

whenever it was introduced to the classic screen.

Toward the end of the decade, Hollywood’s film Scenographers found, ‘livable’and ‘softer’ tests in Ultra-Modern, or Functional aesthetic when mingled witht raditional styles in the interior setting and its composition. This balance80

between Ultra-Modern or Functional spatial organization and traditional styles,including American, was notably illustrated in Robert Haas’ Hollywood’s Hotel(1938); Lyle Wheeler and Edward G. Boyle’s A Star is Born (1937) at SelznickInt ernational; MGM’s, Man Proof (1938), which was a scenographiccollaboration between Gabriel Scognamillo, Edwin B. Willis and CedricGibbons, in addition to Carroll Clark-Van Nest Polglase’s Shall We Dance(1937), and Carefree (1938). Yet this scenographical style suited the law ofs imp licity and achieved its high level of narrative quality on the Hollywoodscreen late in the 1930's. In Chapter 3, this balance between traditional andFunctional spatial interpretation will be deliberated upon in detail.

Formulating an artistic product, expressed R. Myerscough-Walker, is somethingthat ‘enters into the Spirit and Reason of a subject outside the realm ofThoughts.’ Achieving that balance between the spirit of the Moderne and the81

reason of its form was notably secured in Hollywood’s spatial organization;again, many of the styles that came through the Aesthetic Revolution prior to ArtDeco and Streamlined Art shared the formula of abbreviation (reductivism) andescaped the overcrowded conventional image. In the industrial world, whenStreamlined Art Moderne resembled the natural organic shape “Teardrop”, theintended reason behind it was to reduce resistance to its minimum and to havethe maximum efficiency of speed, hygiene, economy, logic, and reason. Yet fromt he scenographical point-of-view, Streamlined Art Moderne was the properanswer to the requirements of Hollywood’s mass production. Its form was simpleand easy to reproduce. Still, the style was the main stream of its age. These

S e e Myron Osborn Lounsbury, The Origins of American Film Criticism 1909-1939. Ph.D. Diss., University of8 2

Pennsylvania 1966 (Rep., New York: Arno Press 1973), preface.

A considerable amount of literature conventions might be found criticizing the aesthetical qualities of the motion8 3

picture. The focus of this study is mainly concentrated on the body of literature treating spatial organization together withits narrative cause and attributes in the film.

Cf. Jan Mukarovsky, Structure, Sign, and Function: Selected Essays by Jan Mukarovsky. Tr. and Ed. by John Burbank84

and Peter Steiner, New Haven: Yale University Press 1978, p. 21.

The film “Sign Systems” exists, see also Calvin Pryluck, Sources of Meaning in Motion Pictures and Television. Ph.D.85

Diss., Department of Speech and Dramatic Art: University of Iowa 1973 (Rep., New York: Arno Press 1976), p. 22.

32

reasons combined together to enable the Moderne to be projected remarkablyonto the classic screen.

2.3 Definition of the Classical Scenographic Space

IA significant body of studies and articles began emerging about the analysis ofmotion pictures in the second half of the 20 century. This model of studiesth 82

may define two main critical traditions: one dealing with film aesthetic, and theother with the formalistic theory of the movies. But both schools dealt with the83

same subject matter utilizing different vocabularies to formulate one question,namely, What exactly does the scenographic product cause, and what does thear tistic quality of the film’s Scenographic Space indicates? To answer such aques tion we firstly must calculate the definite achievement of the filmScenographer. Jan Mukarovsky reflects:

‘Any phenomenon, any action, any product of human activity can become anaesthetic sign for an individual or even for a whole society.’84

According to Professor Mukarovsky’s point-of-view, the scenographicvocabulary, as an artistic product of the film Scenographer, became accepted asan “aesthetic sign”. This means that the film’s spatial organization as a wholecontains a set of signs. Mukarovsky suggested that the “aesthetic object” has85

an association with the aesthetic tradition and material processing. Still, ‘thework of art is in its very essence more than a mere expression of its author’s

Jan Mukarovsky, Structure, Sign, and Function: Selected Essays by Jan Mukarovsky. Tr. and Ed. by John Burbank8 6

and Peter Steiner, New Haven: Yale University Press 1978, p. 64&65.

Ibid, p. 53.87

See D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production88

t o 1 9 6 0 , p. 5; In his 1985 papers, the student of modern film formalistic theory, David Bordwell, attempted to examinea v a riety of technical norms of classical Hollywood films. David Bordwell convincingly succeeded breaking the oldc o n v e n t i o n s a nd traditions of film formalism; this study is generally respected as one of the most authoritative modelsrelated to new film formalism and theory in the last two decades.

In this respect, I prefer using the term “Film Scenographical Cryptogram” because it contains more than one aesthetic8 9

sign.

Cf. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to9 0

1960, p. 59.

33

personality.’ Furthermore, Mukarovsky suggested that the material used86

qualifies in providing the faculty of what he termed ‘aesthetic norms’. In this87

respect, Mukarovsky’s approach pertains, to some degree, to disequilibrium,while the innovative role or stylization of the artist did not clearly obtain enoughattention. This may lead to an empty philosophical thought towards the artisticaccomplishment. In this regard there is no communication between the artist(film Scenographer) and the beholder, i.e., the weight is concentrated only on oneside of the scale, namely: on the material, and aesthetic tradition. The artistic aimshould clearly manifest the philosophical thought of the product originator, tohave effective and complete communication with the beholder.

David Bordwell, during his examination of the technical norms of conventionalfilm practice, avoided any systematic discussion about the spatial and beholder88

relationship in pictorial communication. David Bordwell underrated the“narrative cause and state of the Film Scenographical Cryptogram” produced byt he film Scenographer. His meaning being, that two equal weights exist in89

pictorial interaction between the filmic space and its beholder. We respectfully90

accept Bordwell’s thesis, but what he suggested should be taken with caution; acinematographic transaction of the Scenographic Space and its mise-en-scenesby a “pan or zoom” camera shot may qualify the beholder to classify the three-dimensional characteristics of the filmic space. But in the case of cameramovement such as those of “dolly and tracking” shots, depth cue representationmay be contradictory to the point of being uninformative. Such irritating camerashots may provide the beholder with all adequate visual information and depthcues data, appertaining to the spatial organization of the scene. Yet they will not

S e e J u l i an Hochberg and Virginia Brooks, The Perception of Motion Pictures in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton9 1

P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, pp. 274-76&296; for more information about the human eye and the visual perception in relation to a moving stimulus; see EugeneR . W i s t , H . C. Diener, J. Dichgans and Th. Brandt, Perceived Distance and the Perceived Speed of Self-Motion: LinearVersus Angular Velocity? In: Perception and Psychophysics, Vol. 17, No. 6 (1975), pp. 549-554; cf. Richard Held,J o hannes Dichgans and Joseph Bauer, Characteristics of Moving Visual Scenes Influencing Spatial Orientation, in: VisionRe s e a r c h , Vol. 15 (1975), pp. 357-365; under certain conditions of the representation of an absent space, panning thecamera may become ambiguous as well. The undertaking will be addressed in Chapter 4.

See R. Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University9 2

of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974), p. 248.nd

C f. Ray L. Birdwhistell, Kinesics and Context: Essays on Body Motion Communication. Philadelphia: University of9 3

Pennsylvania Press 1970, p. 88.

34

supply the beholder with the ‘vestibular and other proprioceptive information’regarding the shot. The preceding will be detailed elsewhere (Chapter 4).91

What is missing in the account of Jan Mukarovsky and David Bordwell, as I seeit, is the question of inception in the assignment of research, in that the untutoredbeholder cannot remain interactive with the complex, or unidentified aestheticcryptogram of the film scenographic product. This tradition of motion picturecriticism may, unconsciously, lead to the favor for ambiguity in pictorialcommunication.

On the other side of this “ambivalence of aesthetic signs” in the motion pictures,Rudolf Arnheim sees a tremendous importance in the visual effectiveness of theartist’s role. As he states:

‘The artist realizes that he cannot simply rely on what the viewer knows aboutthe physical world. Such knowledge must always be restated with visual meansin order to be artistically effective, and it is easily undercut by perceptualcounterevidence.’92

Furthermore, renewal of interest in effective communicational process, event-beholder, was revealed by Ray L. Birdwhistell, in that ‘the communicationalstream can be made up of multiple behavioral patterns existing on different timelevels’. Under such analysis Birdwhistell maintained that ‘both the specificstructural meaning of an event at a given level and the cross-referencing functionof it at other levels of analysis become manifest.’ In this regard, because weabsorb these levels and their characteristics, the communicational organizationwill operate progressively smoothly. Birdwhistell’s identification, of the93

See Siegfried Kracauer, From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological History of the German Film. New Jersey: Princeton9 4

University Press 1947, p. 7.

See Andre Bazin, The Evolution of Film Language, in: Peter Graham (Ed.), The New Wave. London: Secker&Warburg9 5

1 9 6 8 , p p . 31-50; ibid., Qu-est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 (Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What isCinema? Vol. 1, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1967), pp. 28-40.

35

equilibrium between the message and its beholder, further intensifies thesimplistic order of the communicational interaction.

Siegfried Kracauer confirmed Rudolf Arnheim’s and Ray L. Birdwhistell’stheory. ‘Inner life’, stated Kracauer, ‘manifests itself in various elements andconglomerations of external life,’ and, Kracauer maintained, ‘especially in thosealmost imperceptible surface data which form an essential part of screentreatment.’ Between 1930 and 1940, American motion picture making,94

observed Andre Bazin, attained a state of incomparability. For one, Hollywooddelivered precise and unambiguous rules and cycles of film-making. These rulesor film genres, according to Bazin, were highly effective in attracting theworldwide beholder to the American screen and lending it a form of captivatingperfection. In addition, in this decade, Hollywood achieved a great balance in theimage-sound juxtaposition, accompanied with a highly stylizedcinematography.95

I found the accounts of Arnheim, Birdwhistell, Kracauer, and Bazin acceptable-t hey appointed the simplicity, and disclaimed the complex communicationalformula. The subsequent study, thus, is centered on the following questions:

1. What are the spatial attributes of Hollywood’s production during its GoldenAge, and to what extent does Hollywood spatial code employ the aestheticmeasures of simplicity and balance in the spatial organization?

2. What form of narrative causality was introduced by the spatial representationon the classical silver screen?

3. Does the Film Scenographical Cryptogram of the “Golden Age” narrate to itsbeholder more than was assumed, or did Hollywood’s spatial interpretation of thenineteen-thirties contributed in forming any form of qualitative communication

Regarding the motion picture perception, see Julian Hochberg and Virginia Brooks, the Perception of Motion Pictures9 6

in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York:A c a d e mi c P ress 1978, pp. 259-304; James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: AV Communication Review,V o l. 1 (1954), pp. 3-23; about the film’s pictorial aesthetic and communication; see Calvin Pryluck, Sources of Meaningi n M o tion Pictures and Television. Ph.D. Diss., Department of Speech and Dramatic Art: University of Iowa 1979 (Rep.,N e w Y o rk: Arno Press 1976); see Roy L. Birdwhistell, Kinesics and Context: Essays on Body Motion Communication.P h iladelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press 1970; and Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan1963; David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley 1979.

In the absence of film scenographic literature: ‘Publikationen uber das Szenenbild im Film ... uber seine Konzeption,9 7

R e alisation und filmische Umsetzung sind rar.’ See Gerhard Helwig, Szenenbild im Film und Fernschen: Aus Theorieund Praxis des Films. Studien Material. Hsg.: Betriebsakademie des VEB/DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilme 12/1984, p. 5.

See Calvin Pryluck, Sources of Meaning in Motion Pictures and Television. Ph.D. Diss., Department of Speech and9 8

Dramatic Art: University of Iowa 1973 (Rep., New York: Arno Press 1976), pp. 16-17.

36

with its beholder?

T o comprehend the function and properties of the Film ScenographicalCryptogram of the 1930's, we must recognize the lack of literary work. Thisdeficiency of references does not allow for a high standard of comparison whichcould aid in representing this study more clearly. However, the fact that the96

literary work which is obtainable is immature has made it difficult to concludeor pronounce judgement. We will still observe previous film scenographic97

literature more closely, and specifically, that related to the Golden Age. It isclear, however, that a significant part of film theory has not been created withoutgoing down the path of the film aesthetic. Those which did not would not haveany exceptional quality.98

In this study, I suggest, the spatial setting, as a clear cryptogram of the filmScenographer, should be observed as a milestone of film style. To myknowledge, no one has previously attempted such a classification. I suppose, theongoing analysis may open some new and meaningful horizons, or explorefurther perception and recognition of Hollywood’s film scenography in itsRenaissance Age and beyond.

IILooking closely at the narrative stream and its cycle shows that its sourceemerges from the repertoire of the ‘producer’ (artist) in the incarnation of a‘product’ (artistic output), to be served up for appreciation to the ‘consumer’

See Kendall L. Walton, Style and the Products and Processes of Art, in: Berel Lang (Ed.), The Concept of Style. Ithaca99

and London: Cornell University Press 1979 (2 Ed. 1987), pp. 74&75.nd

Cf. George Kubler, Toward a Reductive theory of Visual Style, in: Berel Lang (Ed.), The Concept of Style. Ithaca and100

London: Cornell University Press 1979 (2 Ed. 1987), pp. 163-173.nd

The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. 3 Ed., Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin 1992.101 rd

Paul T. Frankl, Form and Re-Form: A Practical Handbook of Modern Interiors. New York: Harper & Brothers 1930,102

p. 27.

See Ralph Flint, Cedric Gibbons, in: Creative Art, Vol. 11 (October 1932), p. 117; see also Cedric Gibbons; The Art103

Director, in: Stephen Watts (Ed.), Behind the Screen: How Films Are Made. London: Arthur Barker 1938, p. 49; tome n t i o n a few instances of a large number of sets being produced in one single feature-length, Marie Antoinette (1938)h a d a b o u t ninety-eight sets, Confession of a Nazi Spy (1939) had eighty-three sets, whereas The Wizard of Oz (1939)

37

(beholder). This is what Kendall L. Walton named: ‘the cobbler model’. In99

applying Walton’s model to scenographic organization, as a product of the filmScenographer, we can see how the communicational stream is cycling betweenthe film Scenographer’s artistic assignment and the beholder’s expectation. Yetin order to have a smooth and active communication between the spatial settingand its beholder, the scenographic product should meet with a “certain concept,”which would lend to it a definite level of quality; As defined by George Kubler,shape, meaning, and time of the artistic product were the components of visualstyle. This means that these artistic components of visual style determine the100

aesthetic quality of the artistic product, rendering it either highly effective, oragreeably ineffective. By extrapolation, what is the real identity of the well-known term, style? As a definition, style has been described by The AmericanHeritage Dictionary of the English Language as: ‘The combination of distinctivefeatures of literary or artistic expression, execution, or performancecharacterizing a particular person, group, school, or era.’ By comparison, style101

was observed by the interior Scenographer Paul T. Frankl of the 1930's modernschool, ‘as the external expression of the inner spirit of any given time.’ 102

But how close was Hollywood’s film scenographic product to that course definedas a style during the Thirties? Hollywood’s studios of the decade were committedto mass production, similar to an assembly line fabrication. In this respect forinstance, each of the big studios produced between fifty to sixty feature-lengthpictures a year. If each film had thirty-five sets, and sometimes as many as fifty,the total would accumulate to more than two thousand sets a year. Yet thesescenographical products had constantly to rank on something inventive and fitinto the artistic formula of the picture. At the same time, these sets had to be103

included sixty-five sets. Through these settings, we have seen the world throughout the hundred and seventeen acres backlot of MGM, and WB’s hundred and thirty two acres back lot.

See Gordon Wiles, Small Sets: Maximum Production Value With Minimum Cost, in: A. C., Vol. 13, No. 5 (September104

1932), p. 12.

P re s t on Ames, Art Director, in: Mike Steen (Ed.), Hollywood Speaks! An Oral History. New York: G. P. Putnam’s1 0 5

Sons 1974, p. 234.

See Donald Chase, Filmmaking the Collaborative Art. Boston: Little Brown 1975, p. 118; Chapter 3&4 of this study106

are devoted to dealing with both: the film spatial organization and its representational stylization in detail.

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differentiated from other studio’s productions as well. However, how it could bepossible that Hollywood’s film scenographical departments preserved aconstancy of visual quality, and did not run out of ideas in this overwhelmingper iod of mass production, unless they were committed to certain formula ofartistic conception, i.e., film scenographical style, in order to keep up with theever increasing high expectation of the beholder and achieve a first class andpersuasive narrative quality.

After the film Scenographer defines a distinctive conception and interpretationof the spatial arrangement, (e.g., modern, Ultra-Modern, period style, et al.), anexhaustive study concerning the particularities of the Scenographic Space’svisualization takes place: its attributes, requirements and the possibilitiesavailable. The film Scenographer delivers the maximum aesthetical efficiencywith the minimum cost to the screen. So, the spatial organization has to undergoa great deal of research, and the film Scenographer confers with the script writer,director, and cinematographer. Each aesthetic sign of the set has to be determinedseparately in advance: effects, camera set ups, lenses, angles, and focus, so therewill be no wasting of time or material. Yet most instrumental in the process is104

governing the spirit of an artistic product. ‘You [film Scenographer]’statedCedric Gibbons’ associate Preston Ames, ‘have to know all about styles . . . beable to give the illusion of them.’ In doing this, you will be able to catch up witht he des ired period outlook.’ An equal share provides the representational105

t reatment with its own cinematographical quality. ‘There are no twophotographers who photograph the same, as there are no two artists who paint thesame’, stated Hollywood’s cinematographer James Wong Howe. This makes itclear that, each way of telling the screen story is interpretative, differentiating thework of its master from the others’ art. Both scenographic and106

cinematographic interpretations of the screen story are essential contributors tofilm visual stylization. Again- what is the aim of the artist’s style, and how far

Joseph Urban, Theatres. New York: Theatre Arts 1929, (Theatre).107

Cf. Jerome Lachenbruch, Interior Decoration for the “Movies”: Studies from the Work of Cedric Gibbons and Gilbert1 08

White, in: Art & Decoration (January 1921), p. 204.

The ‘principle of unity’ lies in the heart of a style distinction; see Ernst Hans Gombrich, The Sense of Order: A Study109

in the Psychology of Decorative Art. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press 1979, Chap. 7.

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can the style correspond to its beholder’s everyday life?

Joseph Urban considered the quality of a true art form to rest in the function ofthe art, since the latter has the aim of formulating life and nature in terms thatserve every individual’s needs. Alongside this nobility of the artistic mission, artis a vehicle for creating a relationship between people’s life and surroundings.107

This means that a true and balanced art form could be presented in the spatialorganiz ation of a motion picture, as long as its settings were loaded withdramat ic meanings, and manifested the spirit of their period as well as theiroccupant’s way of life; otherwise such scenographic art would be pointless.108

Such conceptual art in the film scenography was elegantly illustrated inHollywood’s film-making throughout the Golden Decade. Charles D. Hall, forinstance, was among those artists who contributed to the landmark visualizationof this distinctive era. At Universal Studios, his well-balanced scenographicaltreatment was evocatively manifested within the Teutonic, Gothic andmetamorphic horror of Dracula and Frankenstein (1931). The same is true forthe scenographic visualization by Hans Dreier and his associate W. B. Ihnen inDuck Soup (1933)- Dreier-Ihnen’s spatial configuration provided the concept oftrue art. The settings’ streamlined lines and smooth forms, together with a moodof light tonal values matched well between the Moderne and the spirit of MarxBrothers’ burlesque comedy. It is of note that Paramount’s masterpiece was notp raised by the film critic until recently. The same level of qualitativescenographic interpretation was successfully applied by Anton Grot at WarnerBrothers, where a counterbalance was extraordinarily achieved between BusbyBerkeley’s kaleidoscopic choreography and Grot’s dramatic settings for thesequels of the Gold Diggers (1933, 1935, 1937). In all of these masterpieces wecan trace the ‘principle of unity’ like a thread.109

Warner Brothers was a studio that reflected the spirit of the age, and producedart reflecting the Great Depression and people’s need. The essence of the periodwas remarkably represented in the gangster genre at Warner’s studio, where‘social conscience’ was manifest. Warner Brothers historical and musical

Philip French, The Movie Moguls: An Informal History of the Hollywood Tycoons. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson110

1969, p. 131.

Frank Manchel, Gangsters on the Screen. New York: Franklin Watts 1978, p. 35.111

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biographies in addition to the melodrama, were far from being produced insplendor; this way of practice lent the studio its ‘down to earth’ trademark. Inemp hasizing its own image, the studio went even further and caricatured theprincipal characters who highlighted Warners’ down-to-earth image. WarnerBrothers’ male characters were ‘short, tough, aggressive,’ while the females were‘more waspish, less lady-like’ compared with other studios’ principals. All110

t hese aesthetic signs from the inner and external life -combined together-manifested themselves in terms of surface data on the American screen, topresent the essential ingredients of the spirit of the decade, i.e., in the term ofhouse style.

As a masterpiece of the gangster cycle, The Public Enemy (1931) was observedby Frank Manchel as a movie that ‘became the yardstick to measure all futuregangster films by . . . it became the model for crime stories right up to the presentday.’ In relation to this, we may apply the same measure to other gangster111

pictures such as, Little Caesar (1931), Scarface (1932) and I am A Fugitive fromA Chain Gang (1932), as well. This genre carried in its essence a landmarkscenography in the early years of the decade, and the crime cycle revealed athrilling realism in its scenographical stylization: its composition combined wellwith wisely distributed shadows, a thrilling lighting mood, an attention-capturingsound track, in addition to a tempo rhythm. These aesthetic signs worked underone roof of organic unity to maintain the dramatic potentiality of the character’ssocio-historical background, and the dramatic impact of the filmic image waspersuasively sustained with skillful cinematographic translation. Thevisualization of these pictures of the early 1930's induced the lawlessness of theunderworld of America after the Depression, and this image had an immediatecorrelation with the people’s everyday life. It suggested solutions, and createda visual model for the future Film Scenographical Cryptograms of the crimecycle.

T he prototypical American western’s visual image was underscored by itsexterior cinematographic treatment. Walter Wagner Productions’ Stagecoach(1939), for instance, is regarded by film critics as a turning point in classicwestern history. The picture’s narrative formula had bold rhythm in the action,

See Garth S. Jowett, The First Motion Picture Audiences, in: Journal of Popular Film, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Winter 1974),112

pp. 39&40.

Cf. Meyer Schapiro, Style, in: Melvin Rader, A Modern Book of Esthetics: An Anthology. New York: Holt , Rinehart113

and Winston 1935. (1952, 1960, and 4 Ed. 1973), pp. 270&271; respectively, Professor Meyer Schapiro’s introductionth

to ‘style’ can be observed among the most dependable papers on the subject.

James Gunn, Alternate Worlds: The Illustrated History of Science Fiction. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall114

1975, p. 194.

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but was wisely limited in its camera angles, specifically in Monument Valley.Bert Glennon and Ray Binger’s formula of simplicity in the representationaltranslation balanced well with John Ford’s dramatic pace. The camera tried to beselective regarding the best image available in the exterior, and lent the picturesome accent of high visual and thus narrative quality.

In the early days of the motion picture, the motive behind its rapid progress andhigh attendance was related, as Garth S. Jowett put it, to the ‘deep social andcultural need of the American people’. This form of narration, in its decades-oldhistory, elevated the American social and cultural experience from its emphasison neighborhood thinking to the level of nationwide consciousness, which wewitness today. This wake-up call to the nation emerged from the screen image,112

i.e., from the artist’s product, and was successfully perceived by the public as aguide in their everyday life. Correspondingly, there is only one defensiblejustification of how we may commit to the definition of the conceptual approachof Hollywood’s film scenographical and cinematographical model, and how wemay classify it. Meyer Schapiro elaborated that the concept of style was ‘asystem of forms with quality and a meaningful expression,’ and in addition, it isa participative progress that translates the inner spirit of its innovator (artist), andexp resses the external mood of its beholder. Moreover, style is thedy namometrical medium for defining and restoring the society’s interrelatedmeasures (e.g., art, tradition, social, and cultural experience). Professor MeyerSchapiro furthered his identification of the concept of style. ‘By considering thesuccession of works in time and space and by matching the variations of stylewith historical events and with the varying features of other fields of culture,’113

in another respect, style would be just an empty form or a slim tradition.

James Gunn labeled, Things to Come (1936) among the most ‘outstandingscience fiction films of all time.’ Under William Cameron Menzies’114

sup ervision and Vincent Korda’s spatial interpretation, the picture reached

C f. Ernst Hans Gombrich, Tributes: Interpreters of our Cultural Tradition. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University1 1 5

Press 1984, p. 100.

‘Never before in history has the artist been in a position to command such a gigantic audience ... never before was1 1 6

h e so responsible to civilization.’ See Edward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The StudioPublications 1941 (2 Ed., Designing for Films, 1949), p. VIII.nd

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magnificent visualization and stunning beauty in its scenographic cryptogram (inMetropolis’ setting for a glass-based society, who sent their first rocket missionto the moon, the impact of science on the life of the society is revealed). Thefuturamic picture was stressed as source of inspiration for the cycle of sciencefict ions during the 1950's and 1960's. Still, Menzies-Korda’s masterpiece isinspired, and serves as a measure for any futuramic production for decades tocome. On the other hand, at Warner Brothers, Busby Berkeley’s success couldbe used as a yardstick for any musical form and future spectacle. His oscillationbet ween surrealistic and kaleidoscopic choreographical and dynamo-cinematographical taking was matchless. Berkeley demonstrated these aestheticsigns and their data persuasively at Warner Brothers in his backstage musical42 Street (1933). Berkeley’s dynamism to the space and its setting (low-highnd

camera angle, close-ups, shot, reverse shot, and restless camera conception) wasrepeatedly employed in the musicals that followed at Warners throughout thedecade. 42 Street was the celebrated musical of the year and one of the topnd

money-making pictures at the box-office; it won an Academy Award Nominationfor the Best Picture, and Best Sound Recording.

Within a certain time frame, art theory had strong ties to the psychological levelof t he artist’s product. Art, therefore, is a social expression. The artist isclassified with the commission that is assigned to him by the society with whicht he artist is associated. This duty of the artist was fully perceived and115

comprehended by the artists themselves. Innovators of the Film ScenographicCryptogram are aware of what the society is expecting from their ideal. The filmScenographer Edward Carrick clearly manifested this artistic aim. ‘We artists inthis new medium have in charge a trust of enormous value. Upon our studies, ourdevotion, and enthusiasm must depend upon the thoughts and emotions ofcoming generations,’ Carrick maintained, ‘for the film has become the mostp op ular of the arts and through it millions derive their entire inspiration andperception of emotional values.’ In other words, since the film Scenographer116

rep resents the society from which the artist is emerging, with a certainconception that is assigned to the artist by that society, the artistic product wouldhave a translated definition of the beholder’s life and surroundings. This provides

Meyer Schapiro, Style, in: Melvin Rader (Ed.), A Modern Book of Esthetics: An Anthology. New York: Holt, Rinehart117

and Winston 1935 (1952, 1960, and 4 Ed. 1973), p. 274.th

See George A. Huaco, The Sociology of Film Art. New York: Basic Books 1965 (Introduction).118

See Andre Bazin, The Evolution of Film Language, in: Peter Graham (Ed.), The New Wave. London:1 1 9

Secker&Warburg 1968, p. 31.

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us with a substantially valid reason to suggest terming Hollywood’s filmscenographical concept together with its aesthetical visualization as a style.Based on the fact suggesting that a style of any given age can be approached asthe identity of that particular period, it is the expression of the tendency of timeand excellence. But more importantly, style indicates a system of forms, i.e.,formulas to follow a certain consistency and certain measures in order to becompared with other civilizations’ achievements. Style must provide answers tot he society’s social difficulties. Hollywood Scenographers after the GreatDepression met these expectations well through the Thirties’ spatial code.

III‘T rue art was admitted only in the high cultures,’ reflected Meyer Schapiro,‘where knowledge of natural forms was combined with a rational ideal whichbrought beauty and decorum to the image of man.’ Only Greek and Italian HighRenaissance art set a precedent against which the quality of all other arts can bemeasured. This means that comparing this measure of ideal art with a given117

artistic output may reveal the quality level of that artistic product. In this regard,the first question which might be asked is: can we apply this chief measure forjudging the art of the motion pictures, which concludes by the camera techniquemeeting with its beholder on the screen? George A. Huaco reflects, that film-makers’ exhaustive use of the technological possibilities available is whatgranted the film its title as an art form. Still, during its Golden Age, Hollywood118

delivered a form of art (film genre) that was recognized around the world. If119

Hollywood’s artistic output received that level of recognition worldwide, thisshould indicate that this age of art has some kind of quality when measuredagainst those standard measures of classical art.

Evidently Hollywood stressed a distinctive and popular aesthetical style thatgranted to the 1930's its name the “Renaissance Decade”. This title pertains toa wide range of artistic stages across film production, including Hollywood’sspatial code. Its concept, like the cinematographic one, is the norm that was

Certainly many other productions might be used as a source of inspiration for any scenographical or1 20

cinematographical works in times to come. I am suggesting in this investigation that only the main stream of Hollywood’sproductions will be the subject of analysis throughout the decade.

Cf. Ernst Hans Gombrich, Illusion and Art, in: R. L. Gregory and E.H. Gombrich (Ed.), Illusion in Nature and Art.1 2 1

New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons 1973, p. 228.

See ibid., pp. 236&237.122

Mukhtar Abd Al-Jawwad, Historical Introduction to the Understanding of Spatial Organization in the Motion Picture,123

i n : C i n e m atic Studies, Vol. 1, by the Film Academy, Algiza, Egypt/my translation (January-February 1987), pp. 55-58.

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established by Hollywood to be used as a frame of reference for any future filmicproduct and category. The following few examples may ratify this suggestion:the gangster melodrama Public Enemy and Little Caesar (1931); westerns likeStagecoach (1939); the horror dramas Dracula and Frankenstein (1931), TheBride of Frankenstein (1935); the backstage musical 42nd Street, and, FootlightParade (1933), the comedy musical Top Hat (1935), Follow the Fleet (1936), ormusical fantasy like The Wizard of Oz (1939).120

Certain styles of art may offer ‘conceptual images,’ reflected Ernst HansGombrich, and these images’ data may suggest a complete story of a specificevent and particular era. Yet when forming an image, artists may create form,121

depth cue, or a meaningful theme on their pristine canvas by their use of hatchinglines or the technique of gradients. Correspondingly, this artistic product wouldcap t ure our attention, since the unification of these lines may deliver ameaningful event. What does this have to do with a spatial organization, or is122

it applicable to film scenographic art? The film Scenographer, Mukhtar Abd Al-Jawad, responded to such an inquiry. Abd Al-Jawad’s states that it is, because theprinciples of composing a spatial arrangement relate to the formation of specificlines, forms and perspectives, and putting them together in the same context. Outof this spatial convention, the film Scenographer will match together the spiritof the screen story and the dramatic mood of the setting. In this respect, we see123

how close the relationship is between art and the setting of the motion pictures.

When discriminating between styles, we base our classification on differencesin the application of traditions, materials employed, and techniques used in the

Cf. James S. Ackerman and Rhys Carpenter, Art and Archaeology. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall 1963,124

p . 1 8 2 ; see also Meyer Schapiro, Style, in: Melvin Rader (Ed.), A Modern Book of Esthetics: An Anthology. New York:Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1935. (1952, 1960, and 4 Ed. 1973), pp. 272&273. th

See Alain Lesieutre, The Spirit and Splendour of Art Deco. New York: Paddington Press 1974, p. 7.125

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Style, in: David L. Sills (Ed.), International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, Vol. 15, New126

York: the Macmillan 1972, p. 356.

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forming of the artistic product. Yet over the course of time, these change from124

one age to another. By looking back at the history of style in art, we see that itsconstituents are an ever-changing-phenomenon. ‘Stylistic changes come about,not only because society alters, but because peoples’ day-dreams change.’ This125

means shifting from one period stylization to another relates closely to society’sday -dream and desire of having a better way of life. The Moderne on theAmerican screen was a response to the society’s machine age, in which people’staste shifted toward obtaining that advanced way of life. Hollywood’s adaptationof t he Moderne was a response to the growing ideal among individuals ofAmerican society. This answer came mostly in the form of Hollywood’sscenographical form, quality, technique and material related to the Moderne. AtM GM , Richard Day and Cedric Gibbons’ setting for the studio’s last silentpicture, The Kiss (1929), could be labeled as a landmark of the Art Deco dreamin scenographic history (Illustration 2). Its settings’ clean, straight lines andforms , its contrasted tonal values and indirect lighting sustained the roles ofGreta Garbo and Anders Randolf in their spatial surroundings. Day-Gibbons’scenographic visualization was perceived by the film critic as a vehicle thatenhanced Metro’s house style. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ musical, ShallWe Dance (1937), carried the same spatial accent, in which a floating liner’sinterior reflected supreme Streamlined Art Moderne; the picture’s scenographicstylization (form’s relationships, material, quality and modern aesthetic tradition)provided attention-capturing simplicity and organic unity. These were suggestedby the objects’ smooth surfaces, black and white tones, chrome furniture andhorizontal accents in the background. The picture’s modern settings wereprojected under an indirect lighting effect that transformed the interior setting ofthe ship into a spatial dream.

In visual stylization, streamlined form combined technological efficiency andfashion, specifically on the large screen on which such an equilibrium was126

more graphic than anywhere else the Moderne has reached. From about the mid-to late- 1930's, the response from moviegoers to Hollywood’s production was

Andrew Bergman, We’re in the Money: Depression America and Its Films. New York: Harper& Row 1971127

(Introduction).

S e e A . Nicholas Vardac, Stage to Screen: Theatrical Method from Garrick to Griffith. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard1 2 8

University Press 1949, pp. 42&43.

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sustained with a weekly attendance of sixty million, and this was no coincidence.F ilm-makers, as samples of their society’s cultural and social traditions,inevitably serve the socio-cultural depth and spirit of their society. In thisrespect, Hollywood movies ‘depicted things lost or things desired.’ Hollywood’sart backed up the American spirit during the harsh Depression to keep the societyspirit high. Hollywood pictures appealed to every individual in the society tomove t oward their own ideal, and this was projected in the dreams beingachieved by a hero. Furthermore, as Hollywood reflected the Great Depression127

by way of a useful concept in the filmic spatial, Art Deco and Streamlined ArtModerne were framing the solution being introduced to sixty million Americansevery single week on the screen. It was the motion pictures’ art that etched thespatial image of the Moderne into every beholder’s mind throughout the decade.

Tableaux in the silent film had a leading role, when compared with the advent ofdialogue. ‘Actors were unwittingly being trained for the silent film.’ After128

converting to sound, dialogue not only began obtaining its dramatic value in thefilm, but it started becoming an essential dramatic means in its juxtaposition withthe screen image, specifically in the melodrama and the drama genre. Late in theT hirt ies , Hollywood had reached a commanding place in this dramaticjuxt aposition of image and sound. Warner Brothers’ historical drama, Juarez(1939), manifested the studio’s trademark, and the picture was regarded by filmhistorians as Warners’ most ambitious and “prestigious” picture to date. AntonGrot’s settings were concluded after a great deal of exhaustive research into bothEnglish and Spanish references. Every detail in the picture was studied verycarefully to match the spirit of the time. Anton Grot provided 3,643 sketches tobe used by engineers to draft 7,360 blueprints for both interior and exterior sets.T he result was a complete Mexican Village on the studio’s lot, while thedramatic impact of the picture’s sound track stressed the idealism of the MexicanVillagers for having their own independence from the French. The period stylewas Rococo, reproduced in the setting of Louis Napoleon of France. Its visualmet ap hor carried out an intended abbreviation in the opulence around theMexican throne. In breaking the rules, Anton Grot’s setting signified the unrealand fraudulent French throne in order to underline their supremacy in Mexico.

Myron Meisel, Edger G. Ulmer: The Primacy of the Visual (1972), in: Todd McCarthy and Charles Flynn (Ed.), Kings129

o f t h e Bs : Working with the Hollywood System, An Anthology of Film History and Criticism. New York: E. P. Dutton1975, pp. 148&149.

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Samuel Goldwyn’s historical romantic drama, Wuthering Heights (1939), wasselected as the best picture of the year. The routine of the pictures’ dramaticact ion was underlined by revenge, romance, death, jealousy, ghosts, andweddings. This dramatic dominance was depicted in settings that featured Gothichorror. Alexander Toluboff and James Basevi’s scenography carried the 18th

century angular setting of early Georgian and 19 century Regency style. Thisth

highly effective visual stylization of the gloomy melodrama was sustainedevocatively with dramatic sound, and by Gregg Toland’s moody andExpressionistic cinematography. Its visual style won Toland an Academy Award,and Basevi an Academy Award Nomination for his interior sets.

Each film genre of the 1930's was addressed to a certain class of the society. Int his decade, the motion picture reached the extended base of Americans.Progressively, the American film industry started elaborating the art of its soundand image juxtaposition, and succeeded in reaching the level of a paradigm. Butsimplicity and organic unity hallmarked these productions. Hollywood’s soundtrack and storytelling, combined with conceptual settings, started securing for thefilm a new quality of art for the first time in its age. Some film-makersint roduced sound to elevate the drama of the image, and they succeededadmirably. Hollywood’s film Scenographer and director Edgar G. Ulmerbasically refused to be bound by the studio system at Universal Studios. After hismasterpiece The Black Cat (1934), he left the studio. Ulmer’s self belief wasevident in his artistic vocabulary. He elevated even the most thin screen story tobreathtaking narrative. The artist prioritized the aesthetic vocabulary, and reliedon a modicum of necessary props in his cryptogram. Ulmer electrified thecharacterization within dramatic setting under the frame of simplisticint erpretation, and dramatic manipulation of light, shade and form. All thesetogether lent Ulmer his distinctive identity: style. Edger G. Ulmer’s talented129

interpretation in The Black Cat corresponds to his experience at the Bauhaus,specifically his participation on The Golem (1920) version. In The Black Cat,Ulmer together with Charles D. Hall treated the picturer’s scenography with anExpressionistic accent, and placed it under artificial control, i.e. painted light andshadows, painted silhouettes, indirect lighting, open spatial conception and athrilling horror sound effect.

See George Nelson, Problems of Design. New York: Whitney Publications 1957, p. 11.130

In his initial sketches for An American in Paris [1951], MGM film Scenographer Preston Ames introduced a cluttered131

s p a t i a l c o mposition, more than was necessary to the degree that the spatial arrangement was thrown out of balance; seeDonald Knox, The Magic Factory: How MGM Made an American in Paris. New York: Praeger Publishers 1973, p. 149.

C f. Ernst Hans Gombrich, Truth and the Stereotype, in: Melvin Rader (Ed.), A Modern Book of Esthetics: An1 3 2

Anthology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1935. (1952, 1960 and 4 Ed. 1973), pp. 45&46.th

D a v i d G e b h a rd and Harriette von Breton, Los Angeles in the Thirties 1931-1941. 1975 ( 2 Ed., Los Angeles:1 3 3 nd

Hennessey & Ingalls. 1989), p. 20.

We are dealing here mainly with the “big five” Hollywood studios that produced around seventy percent of motion1 3 4

pictures during the Sound Decade.

A n d re w Bergman, We’re in the Money: Depression America and Its Films. New York: Harper & Row 1971,1 3 5

(Introduction).

48

‘What we call a good design’, stated George Nelson, ‘is on which achievesintegrity -that is, unity or wholeness- in balanced relation to its environment.’130

When the film Scenographer overcrowds the film setting with numerous mise-en-scenes, the spatial principles are violated. Complexity would mark the space, andconsequently the scenographic and dramatic task would be thrown out ofbalance. 131

A highly praised or qualified artistic product draws inspiration for its means andvocabulary from the real world. Yet before the artist can start dealing with these,he must command the secret of the trade. In Warners’ gangster and horror132

genre, the spatial vocabularies of Anton Grot’s sets were often accentuated byExpressionistic or Teutonic outlooking scenography . Warner Brothers’Scenographer’s motives were inspired by working-class house interiors, most ofwhose inhabitants were crushed by the harsh Depression. ‘The unswervingrighteousness of the American middle-class dream was tied to the Hollywoodimage.’ Hollywood succeeded in establishing these ties with the middle-class ofU.S. society, after dealing with their everyday questioners. Hollywood studios133

responded to the problems of the mass unemployment class (Warner Brothers,Universal), and to those of the upper class as well (MGM, Paramount, RKO),134

it means ‘escapism is hardly a useful concept. People do not escape intosomet hing they cannot relate to.’ The term is not applicable to Hollywoodproduction during the years of Depression America. Hollywood did not escape135

the Depression with its lavishly produced musicals; on the contrary, Hollywooddanced to the pain of the Great Depression.

See Leo Kuter, Art Direction, in: Films in Review (June-July 1957), pp. 253&257.136

A. B. Laing, Designing for Motion Picture Sets, in: The Architectural Record, Vol. 74 (July 1933), pp. 62&63. 137

The Architecture of Motion Picture Settings, in: The American Architect, Vol. 118, No. 2324 (July 7, 1920), pp. 2&3.138

Richard Koszarski, Moving Pictures: Hall Mohr’s Cinematography, in: Film Comment (September 1974), p. 48. 139

John Baxter, Hollywood in the Thirties. New York: A. S. Barnes 1968, p. 16.140

49

Catching up with the style in the motion pictures’ setting requires the creativework to find the best answers available to each technical question concerning theartistic vocabulary in the Film Scenographic Cryptogram: the set should providesmooth movement to the dramatic traffic, tonal values of light and shade, cameraset ups, pictorial composition; there are also questions regarding the set’s size,textural treatment and material used, acoustic control and cost. The set shouldrespond to the script and directorial needs, so it can be ready for the action.136

After all these aesthetic signs are prepared separately and put together in theScenographic Space, their unification must provide an accent of simplicity,enabling the beholder to ‘grasp the whole scene and its meaning at a glance.’137

This is because these aesthetic signs are related to “the law of simplicity in thespatial,” and correspondingly they have been through various stages of study andresearch finally to emerge as perceivable appearance; after all, when the beholderp ay s attention to the dramatic action and the scene’s background, its settingshould represent and reflect its occupant’s celebrity and experience.Sp at iot emporal parallelism, in this representation, is highly required. Ananachronism must be avoided at any rate. 138

The distinctive aesthetical style of storytelling was notably balanced with trueartistic painting with light in Charles Rosher’s, Lee Garmes’ and WilliamDaniels’ cinematography. Whereas Gregg Toland and Hall Mohr had their ownlabel in this artistic representation, Mohr was known as a motion pictureportraitist, while Toland employed moving camera and deep-focus technique toan interesting degree, so he could ensure the most narrative image possible. On139

the studio’s level, MGM, for example, manifested its own image on the silverscreen featuring an exquisite ‘brightly lit, sharp-edged intensity that conveys thespirit of the country and period, . . . Metro’s sets achieved a verisimilitude andelegance of production few studios or individuals have matched.’ After each140

of the American studios’ created its own artistic label on the screen, they securedtheir own landmark image, that consisted of visible cues and what psychologists

C f. J u l i a n Hochberg and Leon Gellman, The Effect of Landmark Features on Mental Rotation Times, in: Memory1 4 1

& Cognition, Vol. 5, No. 1 (1977), p. 23.

J . P . Telotte, Dancing the Depression: Narrative Strategy in the Astaire-Rogers Films, in: Journal of Popular Film1 4 2

and Television, Vol. 8, No. 3 (Fall 1980), p. 18.

George P. Erengis, Cedric Gibbons: Set a Standard for Art Direction that Raised the Movies’ Cultural Level, in: Films143

in Review (April 1965), p. 217.

Hans Dreier, Motion Picture Sets, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 17, No. 5 (November 1931), p. 789.144

50

call ‘cues of location and orientation.’ They are a great asset to the perceptualencoding of the image’s constituents. When Hollywood made effective use of141

such landmark characteristics, it allowed the American studios to form theirdis tinctive house style. American film had settled on a spatial code for anunchallenged film scenography and for ever. Simplicity highlighted that style,and emphasized it as a model of inspiration for spatial codes to come.

In summary, as we reviewed Hollywood’s spatial and representational practiceduring the 1930's, it was made clear that this period’s production established itsown aesthetical style, which was hallmarked by “the canon of simplicity.” Thedecade following the introduction of sound into the motion picture and GreatDep ression conveyed a highly perceptual scenographic style, the latter’scorrelationship with the spatial realism of the Moderne, logic and reasonqualifying Hollywood’s spatial code to be an exemplary one.

IVA comparative degree of realism was demonstrated in Fred Astaire-GingerRogers’ pictures. Their cycle manifested the forming of a realistic world that wasbalanced with those expressive dramatic means of their musicals. Astaire-Rogerstended to act according to each beholder’s perceptual capacity and make their artavailable to all. Astaire-Rogers relied profoundly in their musicals on142

demonstrative settings and their representation, which, notably, contributed to thep ercep t ual efficiency of the cycle’s image. In this relationship, the filmScenographer’s product may contribute to the question of whether a picture isgoing to have a favorable outcome, or decline. 143

By its nature, film scenography has the task of taking the beholder to the spiritof the scene and maintaining persuasive narrational patterns. In its heyday,144

film scenography was praised by critics as a frame to the characters in their

Palmer White, Why the Movies are Influencing American Taste, in: House Beautiful (July 1942). 145

See Joseph Urban is a Master of Lighting Effects, in: Photoplay (1923).146

Nobert Lusk, Joseph Urban Bring Scenic Art to Motion Pictures. 1921 [papers from Columbia University: Rare147

Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection].

Hermann Rosse, The Wasted Gifts of the Scene Designer, in: Oliver M. Sayler (Ed.), Revolt in the Arts: A Survey of1 4 8

the Creation, Distribution and Appreciation of Art in America. New York: Brentano’s Publishers 1930, p. 201.

Screen Glamour to Sell Fashions to Fans, in: Commercial Art and Industry (July-December 1935), p. 19.149

Percival F. Reniers, Upon Mr. Urban’s advent into Moving Pictures: Mr. Urban’s Ideas, in: The Evening post (July1 5 0

3, 1920).

Lloyd Shearer, The 3 Most Popular movie Sets of the Last 20 Years ... and What they Mean, in: House Beautiful, Vol.151

83, No. 12 (December 1946), pp. 218-221.

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surrounding, which looked like a daydream as stories unfolded within settingsthat translated the average man’s emotions. A film Scenographer such as145

Joseph Urban was perceived by Photoplay in 1923, as an artist ‘who sees andfeels human drama in pictorial form as opposed to the laudable, but not lator offurniture and bric-a-brac.’ Nobert Lusk suggested that Urban was an artist who146

‘has given to [the] motion pictures something of his imagination and feeling.’147

On the other side Hermann Rosse, Universal’s Scenographer, celebrated this kindof style-maker: they must be encouraged, so they can continue responding to thequestions of the masses.148

Keeping the visual style in accordance with the average beholder’s grasp callsfor a realistic accent in the scene’s visualization. This form of expressiveequilibrium should be preserved in its highest order. Otherwise, for instance,even an exaggeration in the costume making would not have any attraction to theaverage woman. Simplicity and balance should be prioritized in the pictorial149

communication. Setting alone should not capture the attention of the beholder forit s own sake it should sustain the action. A setting should relate to the150

beholder’s life and experience. Hollywood maintained a great deal of balance inits scenography. Lloyd Shearer confirmed in his writing in House Beautiful thatHollywood’s scenographical stylizations ‘not only represent the desires ofmillions of Americans, but . . . the way American taste in homes is tending.’151

Lastly, after having interacted with the real world and traditions of the society,and having been observed and attended by more than sixty million Americans a

J e ro me Lachenbruch, Art and Architectural Artifice, in: The American Architect, Vol. 118, No. 2341 (November 3,1 5 2

1920), pp. 563-568.

J ohn Robert Gregory, Some Psychological Aspects of Motion Picture Montage. Ph. D. Diss., Urbana, Illinois:1 5 3

University of Illinois 1961, p. 89.

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week in the neighborhood theaters, Hollywood’s sets from the Thirties emergedas a valid narrative source in the communicational stream. They were highlycredible. Hollywood’s scenographic norm of this classic era was admirablyadapted in the American home.

A true artist is one who has the ability to feel and is able to translate that feelinginto a conceptual artistic means. This transformation from the sketching board152

to the fulfillment of the artistic task must be a smooth process, far from anyaccent of disequilibrium, complexity, or repetition. Monotony is capable ofkilling the beholder’s interest in the screen image. Any accentuation ofcomplexity distracts or causes the loss of interest in the picture. In applying thisformula to Hollywood’s production after the arrival of the talkies, all the studiosclearly tried to milk the possibilities of the newborn technology to enhance theiraes t hetical style. It caused Hollywood to have a disequilibrium in the imagesound juxtaposition, and the resulting image was poorly performed within thecanned set. Hollywood tried -mostly in the musical genre- to make the best useof the new technology by singing or dancing in a theatrical form to accommodatethe technique, instead of reversing this equation. Metro’s, The Hollywood Revueof 1929 (1929), and The Broadway Melody (1929), Fox’s Sunny Side Up (1929),Warner’s Gold Diggers of Broad way (1929), and RKO’s Rio Rita (1929) weretypical examples of Hollywood’s turbulent and static year when it converted tosound.

With its ability to unite separate aesthetic signs organically together, and to lendthem a form of narrative efficiency, the motion pictures medium is qualified tobe a communicational medium combining separate cues, that are less qualifiedto obtain the same narrative paradigm ‘in a mere summation of those units.’153

Combining these aesthetic signs of the motion picture together needs a skilled,but talented artist, who is able to attribute the principles of unity and balance tothose signs. In summing up, Hollywood’s Scenographer and cinematographer oft he 1930's secured this conceptualization persuasively in their works. Theseartists replied with their feelings to the society’s questions, and their product wasexpressed in terms of a collective form, quality and tradition. In doing so, theytightened the boundaries of the real world of Depression America and the society

See D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production154

to 1960, P. 52.

In his introduction on Thanksgiving, the Editor of The American Home adored the prosperity and conveniences in1 5 5

t h e American home; see Thanksgiving 1929, in: The American Home, Vol. 3, No. 2 (October 1929, to March 1930); fora c o mic critic of the new lifestyle during the 1930's (England); see Heath Robinson and K. R. G. Browne, How To Livein a Flat. London: Hutchinson, pp. 27-44; the new lifestyle up to modernity was advocated in the 1930's; Dieter Prokop,Hollywood Hollywood: Geschichte Stars, Geschafte. Koln: Verlagsgesellschaft 1988, p. 129.

Cf. William Cameron Menzies, Pictorial Beauty in the Photoplay, in: Richard Koszarski (Ed.), Hollywood Directors1 5 6

1914-1940. New York: Oxford University Press 1976, p. 240.

See Ernst Hans Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York:1 57

B o l i ngen Foundation 1960 (2 Ed., New York: Kingsport Press 1961), p. 175; in later chapters (Two and Three), I willnd

a d d re s s technological development in further detail and its association with Hollywood’s film scenographic and

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of t he machine age. Finally, the principle of unity and balance allowedHollywood’s scenographic concept to be comprehended by the averageindividual at first glance. Still, it could not have happened by chance thatHollywood’s film scenographical style from the Thirties was used as source ofinspiration for the American home and its occupants. This conceptualized spatialform deserved the recognition to be treated as a style.

2.4 Analysis of 1930's Film Scenographical Stylization

In classic film-making, Hollywood invoked the impression of actual depth on theflat screen. Characters’ and camera movement sustained this illusion andmanifested the cue of kinetic depth. But projecting this illusion of depth onto154

the screen was maintained by the impressive structure of new-born technologies.After the emergence of sound, film art progressively started attaining new stagesof technological innovations, and new cameras, incandescent light, faster filmsand lenses all started contributing to the enhancement of the aesthetic of thescreen image, and therefore its narrative quality. By then, modern technologywas in demand in America. It reached into Hollywood’s spatial stylization.155

Wit h t he introduction of modern technology in the film setting, each scenicdream was able to be implemented.

The art of today’s motion pictures, said William Cameron Menzies, is a clearreflection of the time’s tastes, feelings and traditions. This was in reference to156

t he age of the late nineteen-twenties. Still, this art of echoing the time’sconventions does not mark the conclusion of that time, and had its boundarieswith the past, because there is no art without its traditional schemata. When157

cinematographic stylization.

A setting for motion pictures does not always exist from a cardboard or stretched canvas on a wood frame. In places158

(s t aircase, roofs, balconies, etc.) where action is going to take place involving more than one character, the settings’construction must meet the standard of the insurance and state’s building code and regulations. If the script calls for a fireo r e x p l o sion, walls and backings of the studios must be fireproof. These regulations require constant collaborationb e t w een the film Scenographic department and the entire film crew; see Hans Dreier, Designing the Sets, in : NancyNaumburg, We make the Movies. New York: W.W. Norton 1937, pp. 87&88.

See Cedric Gibbons, Motion Picture Sets, in: Encyclopaedia Britannica. 14 Ed., 1929-1939, p 859.159 th

Sometimes the hall-way is connected to the living room, while the dining room was arranged on another stage; ibid.,160

p. 858.

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each artistic or technological invention of the 1930's induced narrative screenimage, they were built upon the formulas and achievements of their predecessorsfrom the past.

Commercially, a motion picture set has no sales value. It has only acinematographic significance. But this pictorial quality of the set would decide158

whether the motion picture medium is going to ascertain its high claim as a trueart form or not. Evidently, it provided the high cinematographic level during theThirties. In that decade, we see how Art Deco and Streamlined Art dominated theaesthetical form and outlook of Hollywood’s spatial stylization. In the interior,as in the exterior settings, the Moderne, with its simplistic accent, provided theaction with matchless surroundings. Metro’s chief Scenographer Cedric Gibbonsexp ressed: ‘there is no reason why they [the Moderne] should not becomeincreasingly popular.’ 159

Cedric Gibbons observed an almost non exceptional realism in the modernsettings. In the plan, there is a great similarity between arranging a modern livingspace and a contemporaneous set, but it is not necessary that all rooms of the setare connected together. Hollywood established its codes not only in the160

scenographic arena, but in all other stages of the film production. WhenHollywood formed its tradition of film-making, the studios were canonizing theirp ractice across all stages. This codified the screen image and lent it a uniqueoutlook compared with the rest of the world’s production. Hollywood’s style wasassessed on three levels by David Bordwell: devices, systems and the relations

G e n erally, those canonical levels formed the classic narrative style of American film-making; D. Bordwell, J. Staiger1 6 1

a n d K . Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960, p. 6; after securingt h i s s o l i d foundation of narrative codes, Hollywood shifted the action towards a more narrative style, whilst still underthe beholder’s analytical control.

The following film genre characterized the decade following the coming of sound: 1. Film Musical 2. Gangster Film1 6 2

3. Monster Film 4. Comedy Film 5. Western Film 6. Psychological and Social Drama 7. Burlesque Film; cf. Andre Bazin,Q u -est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 (Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What is Cinema? Vol. 1, Berkeleya n d Lo s Angeles: University of California Press 1967), p. 28; ibid., The Evolution of Film Language, in: Peter Graham(Ed.), The New Wave. London: Secker&Warburg 1968, p. 31.

See Charles Higham, Hollywood Cameramen: Sources of Light. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press1 6 3

1970, (introduction).

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between these systems. After the arrival of sound, new variations of films and161

filming were possible, and Hollywood responded with a whole new pallet ofproductions that marked the screen throughout the Thirties. Representing these162

sound genres on the screen, was the other side of the coin compared to formingthe visual style. Sketching was in the hands of talented artists, who behind theircameras shared notably in the codification of Hollywood’s screen image. In163

latter chapters of this investigation, this process will be highlighted further. Thesame is true for Hollywood’s Scenographers, who addressed these film genresin their three-dimensional form, and contributed to the formation of the GoldenAge’s visual style. When addressed in depth, the 1930's film cycles will providea far-reaching appreciation of these mens’ lives and products.

However painful it may sound or hard it is to accept, it is a historical fact that thegreat pioneer Scenographer Wilfred Buckland (Illustration 3), committedsuicide on July 18 of 1946 at the age of eighty, after shooting his own mentallyill son. He was left alone during and after the Depression with no significant job.Buckland applied his stage lighting effects to the motion pictures’ scenographic

L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 200&201; another important164

fi g ure among the pioneer film Scenographers, Ben Carre, born in Paris in 1883, emigrated in 1912 to the United States.B e n C a rre was the artist who introduced a new standard of aesthetic to early Hollywood’s film scenography; see KevinBrownlow, The Parade’s Gone By. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1968, p. 242; L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and OtherG r and Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 201&202; Ben Carre contributed to Warner Brothers’ scenography in thefi rs t p a rt - t a lkie, Don Juan (1926), and The Jazz singer (1927). Ben Carre’s excellent sketching style had always beenn o t a b le ever since the Teens and Twenties (where a scene used to be painted on the background of the dramatic action).H i s mastery in the spatial arrangement can be followed in all of his spatial configurations: The Blue Bird (1918), the firsttalking western, Rider of the Purple Sage (1931), A Night at the Opera (1935), Great Guy (1937), and The Wizard of Oz(1 9 3 9 ). These are only a few examples of his work. His sketching ability, composition, silhouette and color affinity lenta high aesthetical efficiency and magical power to his Scenographic Space. The artist circulated in most of the big studios,w h e re h e t y p i c a lly did not receive any credit for his work, whilst others did. Ben Carre died in 1978 in Hollywood,Cheviot Hills, California.

J o s eph Urban re-arranged the Abidin Palace in Cairo for the Egyptian monarch Al-Khudawy Ismail; a castle for the1 6 5

H u n g a rian Count Esterhazy; the Hagenbund exhibition building in Vienna, and worked in the Vienna Royal Opera, theP a risian Champs-Elysees Opera, the Convent in London, and engineered the Trotsky Bridge over the Neva River inLeningrad; see Nobert Lusk, Joseph Urban Bring Scenic Art to Motion Pictures. 1921. [Paper from Columbia University:R a re B o o k s a nd Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection]; see also Randolf Carter, The World of Flo Ziegfeld.New York: Praeger Publishers 1974, p. 38&40; Oliver M. (Ed.), Revolt in the Arts: A Survey of the Creation, Distributionand Appreciation of Art in America. New York: Brentano’s Publishers 1930, p. 341.

56

art, after he mastered them during his days at Belasco’s theaters, in New York.164

Wilfred Buckland was a pioneer, yet he also revolutionized scenic art by puttingthe set under artificial lighting control in order to reflect any mood desired by thescreen story (as we will see in Chapter 4). Buckland left a considerable body ofearly spatial stylization behind, some of which included: The Virginian (1914),Male and Female (1919), Robin Hood (1922) in association with others, such asAlmost Human (1927). He also worked on the early sound comedy Madam Satan(1930).

Another pioneer film Scenographer was Joseph Urban, who refused acceptingthe studio system and was his own boss in his own right (Illustration 4). JosephUrban was a book illustrator, painter, sculpturer, architect, civil engineer, interiorand stage Scenographer, costume maker, and founder of many spatial conceptsin film scenography . Urban’s lighting effect was magical. By twenty-six yearsof age, Urban had already acquired an international reputation. He worked inVienna, Cairo, Budapest, London, Leningrad, Paris, at Boston MetropolitanOpera, Reinhardt Theater in New York, and Los Angeles. He was a man, who165

had similarities to the Renaissance artists.

Joseph Urban was born in Vienna in 1872, where he studied fine art, polytechnic,and architecture. In 1904, he visited the United States for the first time through

S e e C ervin Robinson and Rosemarie Haag Bletter, Skyscraper Style: Art Deco New York. New York: Oxford1 6 6

U n i v ersity Press 1975, p. 19; Nobert Lusk, Joseph Urban Bring Scenic Art to Motion Pictures. 1921. [Paper fromColumbia University: Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection].

Joseph Urban, Real Screen Drama Greatest Need, Declares Joseph Urban [undated Papers from Columbia1 6 7

U n i v e rs i t y : R a re Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection]; see also Oliver M. Sayler, Urban of theOpera, the “Follies,” and the Films, in: Shadowland (1921 or 22 [?]).

Cf. Randolf Carter, The World of Flo Ziegfeld. New York: Praeger Publishers 1974, pp. 38, 40-1&44.168

Sheldon Cheney, The New World Architecture. New York: Longmans, Green 1930, p. 355.169

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the Austrian exhibit at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis. He musthave liked it, as he emigrated to America in 1911. Joseph Urban attained anunsurpassed degree of fame during the Twenties. His talent and masteryexceeded any of the artistic work of his contemporaries. Urban brought to the166

U.S. his own artistic concept. He manifested his belief in liberating art from thearistocratic saloons, and making it accessible to all. The master introduced new167

techniques and formulas into the scenographic field in America for the first time,and today these are considered as a standard in spatial organization. His portals,platforms, and no lack of solid color use were something conceptual. Urban usedthe overall tones, painted or forced perspective and reduced his setting for theimportant dramatic vocabulary. In New York, at Ziegfeld Theater, he balanced168

between the richness of color and the simplicity of form. 169

After he directed the Cosmopolitan Production’s art department, Joseph Urbanfat hered modern film scenography in the United States and pioneered theintroduction of the Moderne to American screen. In his setting for the “Tearoom”in the comedy-drama, Enchantment (1921), Urban called for a horizontal accentin t he pattern of the curtains, and accentuated it by placing planter boxesseparating the upper third of the wall from the rest of the papered portion. Urbanarranged the windows in the upper third of the set for light penetration. In doingso, he substituted the commonly-used ‘from above’ lighting principle, and keptthe set naturally lit while it was roofed. The lighting formula of these windowsrelates to the Gothic’s clerestory windows and lighting principle. The modernSezession style was manifested in the set’s motives and objects, which includedchairs, ceiling motives, flowers, and light fixtures. On the other hand, JosephUrban’s setting for the “Dining Room” in the same picture, introduced an accentof heyday Art Deco chic. In the plan, as in the Tearoom, the set overcame theconventionality of the square living space and became semi-oval. The height oft he ceiling was highlighted by mapped walls with various sizes of angular,

A ll the twenty-five drafted pictures by Joseph Urban may reveal his artistic thought, that was balanced between the1 7 0

principles of simplicity and richness in his settings.

See Randolf Carter, The World of Flo Ziegfeld. New York: Praeger Publishers 1974, p. 136.171

‘Other choreographers such as Sammy Lee and Roger Edens were similarly motivated.’ Ibid., p. 166; Ziegfeld Follies:172

n a me d after its American theatrical producer Florenz Ziegfeld (1869-1932), who was famed for his extravagant revues(Follies). They were produced annually from 1907 to 1931 (except 1926, 1928, and 1929).

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circular, or square forms. Some of these were filled with chevron signs of ArtDeco. The table rested on definite rectangular legs, in keeping with the forms ofthe high chairs and every other angular line within the set. On each side of thewalls there were almost six circles, some of which were porcelain plates filledwith motives related to Art Nouveau. Light fixtures, the table cloth, rug, flowerson t he t able and in the background, angularity and smooth lines are allcons t it uents of early Art Deco. Urban employed a symmetrical accent thatconveyed balance in the Scenographic Space. He pushed the spatial organizationto its limits concerning the degree of richness, but notably preserved a level ofsimplicity in the set, which could convey its message to the average beholder atthe first glance. This modern set was praised by the critics for being among thefinest Art Deco stylizations throughout the style’s history (see Illustration 5).Further modern stylization followed in The Young Diana (1922) and Snowblind(1924), which were two other highlights of the Moderne. His last two pictures,t he historical melodrama East Lynne (1931) and the medical-drama Doctors’Wives (1931), carry Urban’s signature of reliance on the essential and simplisticform. 170

By 1929, Urban was at the height of his fame in America, and hiscont emporaries, who lacked Urban’s talent, tried creating controversialcontentions against him by identifying Joseph Urban with Hitler’s artist AlbertSpeer. Urban’s opulent and rich style treated the characters as components of171

his set’s attributes. Unarguably, Joseph Urban’s dramatic visualization inZiegfeld Follies enhanced this attribute’s association with the spectacle. ZiegfeldFollies had definite influence on Hollywood’s musicals during the 1930's and1940's. ‘Busby Berkeley evolved a bizarre style of his own in purely cinematicterms, but his basic concepts also sprang from Follies extravaganza.’ After the172

arrival of sound, the early Hollywood canned set musicals were talking theUrbanistic and Follies’ language in terms of their scenographical composition.Warner Brothers’ scenographic and choreographic stylization of Gold Diggersof Broadway (1929) and Gold Diggers of (1933, 1935, 1936) sequel rests chiefly

Cf. Sheldon Cheney and Martha Candler Cheney, Art and the Machine: An Account of Industrial Design in 20th -1 7 3

Century America. New York: Whitlesey House 1936, p. 152.

See Donald Deschner, Anton Grot: Warners Art Director 1927-1948, in: The Velvet Light Trap, Vol. 15 (Fall 1975),1 74

p p . 1 8 -2 2 ; the Prohibition era was the period (1920-1933) during which the 18th Amendment forbade the manufactureand sale of alcoholic beverages in the United States.

S t e p h en Louis Karpf, The Gangster Film: Emergence, Variation and Decay of A Genre 1930-1940. Ph. D. Diss.,1 7 5

Northwestern University 1970, (Rep., New York: Arno Press 1973), p. 86.

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on the great master spatial concept and the Follies. MGM’s Broadway Melody(1929, 1935, 1937), and the studio’s 1940's biographical musicals are noexception regarding the usage of the same formula of spectacle.

In his early years in the U. S., Urban was received by the public as a chief in theprofession of modern stagecraft. His exotic but persuasively narrative spatial173

stylization was and would remain a source of inspiration for the motion picture’sopulent setting. His uncomprehensible and early death in 1933 was a tremendousloss to scenographic history, and to millions whose feelings and language Urbanhad translated, into a visual style. In truth, Joseph Urban was severely neglected.

An attention-capturing accent of organic unity and balance was achieved by themaster Scenographer of Warner Brothers, Anton Grot (Illustrations 6-7). Bothhis interior and exterior settings invoked the clear dramatic mood of his pictures.Anton Grot’s scenographical stylization of Little Caesar (1931), reflected theZeitgeist of the “prohibition world” in America. His scenographic technique wasa homage to balance within the principles of simplicity and beauty. Grot’s spatialvisualization was simplistic in its essence. Warner’s scenographical174

dep art ment notably sketched poor outlooking film spatials, relating to theaverage American class’ accommodations, apartments, residences, and hotels.This film scenography lent a thrilling realism to the gangster genre throughoutthe decade. Grot mastered and created this aesthetical style, and he was one of175

the main figures in Warner’s scenographical department who contributed to theformulation of the studio’s pictorial identity (style) on the screen.

Born in Kelbasice, Poland, in 1884, his native name was Antocz FranciszekGroszewski. Anton Grot studied art in Crakow, Poland, and continued hiseducation in illustration and interior scenography at the Technical College inKoenigsberg, Germany. In 1909, he immigrated to America. Four years later hestarted working at the Lubin Company for the producer Sigmund Lubin, and onGeorge Fitzmaurice’s films, remaining there until 1917. He then worked for

L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 211&212; Donald Deshner,176

Anton Grot: Warners Art Director 1927-1948 in: The Velvet Light Trap, Vol. 15 (Fall 1975), pp. 18-22.

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Paramount with the directors such as Louis Gasnier and George B. Seitz amongothers. In 1922, Grot moved to Hollywood and started working with DouglasFairbanks, who recognized his talent and assigned him, jointly with others, toThe Thief of Bagdad (1924). From 1925, he spent the next two years working forCecil B. DeMille. From 1927-1948 Grot was a member of Warner’sscenographic department. He invented the “ripple machine” for light and adverseweather effects, which won him a special Academy Award in 1940.176

Ant on Grot’s illustrative background helped him profoundly in forming hisvisual style. The artist used ink, charcoal, and sometimes watercolor in hissketches. Anton Grot featured his scenographic sketches with attention-capturingdetails. He assigned the lighting effects of the set, camera angles, and settled themain scenes’ composition, and then wove the details elegantly together in aframe of organic continuity. Grot had a remarkable ability to capture the spatialto serve his artistic formula. His use of perspective is notably unique. This highs t y liz ed scenography of Anton Grot was manifested in The Private Life ofElizabeth and Essex (1939). The picture’s spatial stylization revealed theat t ention-capturing juxtaposition of light and shade. Its tonal treatment,composition technic and silhouette technique hallmarked Grot’s spatialinterpretation. Warner Brothers’ strict economical policy re-oriented the mastertoward a scenographic trend of abbreviation in the settings’ mise-en-scenes ortoward adapting some accents of German Expressionism. He employed paintedlight and shade in his sets, introduced highly perceptual perspectives and theleast costly mise-en-scene. These artistic vocabularies were greatly illustrated inSvengali (1931), Doctor X (1932), and Captain Blood (1935). Moreover, AntonGrot introduced a distinctively Expressionistic style of treatment in the horror,mystery, and last two-color Technicolor process Mystery of the Wax Museum(1933). Warner Brothers’ economical restrictions imposed their limitations onthe studio’s settings, and this in turn was felt in the representational treatmentsin terms of limited camera angles and movements within a confined setting’sspace.

Anton Grot’s spatial organization contributed notably to the successes of thecrime cycle, and he contributed significantly to the popularity of the gangstergenre and its enhanced realism on the screen. Warner Brother’s scenographicdepartment played an unquestionable role in the studio’s box-office success. Art

Cf. John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood: Fifty Years of Art Direction. London: Thames1 7 7

Te l e v i s i on 1979, pp. 31& 32; ‘Grot is considered instrumental in the development of Curtiz’s style in these years[1 9 3 0 's ]’; see also Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Direction in the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina andLondon: McFarland 1990, pp. 128&129.

See John Baxter, Hollywood in the Thirtieth. New York: A. S. Barnes 1968, pp. 50-69.178

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Deco and Streamlined Art Moderne and splendor were not of significant concernto Warner Brothers’ executives. Anton Grot’s contribution to classic Americanfilm-making during the 1930's, is equal to the progress of Busby Berkeley,Mervyn Le Roy, or Michael Curtiz. The latter received the credit for the master’shard work and efforts in the spatial aesthetic after Curtiz and hiscinematographers followed, but had copied Grot’s sketches and story-boards andlighting effects step by step, while the true style-maker was left out in the cold.177

Sup p osed film historians accrediting aesthetical stylization to Curtiz shouldremember that his visualization emerged from Anton Grot’s sketching board(Illustrations 8-13). Like Joseph Urban, Anton Grot was a team player and amuch admired hard worker. He loved his associates, and his associates lovedhim. He never abused another’s talent for his own gain. Grot died in 1974 inCalifornia.

Warner Brothers’ pictures presented a novelty of visual style on the screen. Thestudio sometimes offered Baroque style, another dramatic low-key style oflighting that enhanced the effect of the cheap looking mise-en-scenes. Warner’sset s were arranged as resemblance to the average class contemporarysurroundings. Notable characters’ grubbiness in the Scenographic Spacebackground reflected a maximum artistic efficiency with the limited possibilitiesavailable. Warner Brother’s studio had a unique association of artists from178

various backgrounds (illustrators, stage Scenographers, and architects). Thestudio’s scenographic department was not run by architects or even by a head ofdepartment like Metro, Paramount, Universal or Columbia. Each artist was doinghis job independently, which introduced a relative kind of artistic freedom intothe scenographic stylization. But these artists were masters of their profession intheir own merit. Arranging the set in the most narrative and simple quality forAnton Grot, for instance, involved a great deal of artistic knowledge andresearch. His spatial composition helped in telling the story and in guiding theaverage class’ attention to the picture’s message. In this regard,‘foreground/background relations in the mise-en-scene’ stated Bordwell andT homp son, ‘often guide our “reading” of the shot . . . Lines and shapes,

Cf. David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley1 79

1979, p. 87.

Frank Manchel, Gangster on the Screen. New York: Franklin Watts 1978, pp. 10&11.180

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light/dark patterns and expressive movement also play a part.’ Applying this179

formula to Warner Brothers’ scenography may explain to us the meaning of someartistic aspects in Anton Grot’s scenographical cryptogram. Grot favored placinga large object in the foreground, on one side or other of the front of his set, orsometimes in the middle, surrounded by the characters’ composition. Thissep arat ed the front from the background, where smaller objects are situatedserving as spatial properties. This scenographical conception, sustained bydramatic light, proper camera angles and composition, would lead the beholder’seye, inevitably, to scan the Scenographic Space from the front to the background.

In his spatial organization for Little Caesar and Public Enemy (1931), AntonGrot reflected the Depression and the age of lawlessness. The gangster’s homeinterior strongly depicted its occupant’s way of life. Medium shots revealed agreat portion of the scenographic composition. The character in the foregroundis always interacting with the groupings in the background, and is an inseparablepart of the setting. Switching in lighting tones, and oscillating between gloomyand bright patches reflects the instability in the mind of the hero: Rico Bandello-Little Caesar (Edward G. Robinson), or Tom (James Cagney), who may drawtheir guns to shoot at any time. They are spontaneous, and only believed in theirfights, guns and raising to the top. Rico, like Tom, gained his experience in thecut-throat world, and never liked theoretical views. The silhouette in the spatialconveyed the isolation of the criminals from their surroundings (society). Thelimited spatial concept was emphasized with the Scenographic space’s angularwalls . Low ceilings conveyed a claustrophobic atmosphere in both pictures.Anton Grot’s spatial translation in Little Caesar and Public Enemy pointed to anoriginal accent of the gangster genre’s scenographical style, and laid thecornerstone of the crime cycle’s spatial code of the prohibition era.

Immediate links were formed between Hollywood gangster films and theorganized crime in the American society. Crime emerged in the large cities, afterthe mass waves of European immigrants arrived in America in the late 1880's.These people were lured to the land of opportunity and ‘the young nation’s stresson individualism and success’ as a way of life. After the federal government180

declared the prohibition of liquor in America, organized crime came in

S e e J o hn Baxter, The Gangster Film. New York: A. S. Barns 1970, (Introduction); Scarface (1932) was an1 8 1

unforgettable gangster drama based on the legendary figure, and the head of Chicago’s underworld, Al Capone, whog a i n e d h i s n i c kname “Scarface” from two side by side three-inch scars on his left cheek. Capone resembled mostAmericans of the Depression era, and the success and individualism of the young nation.

Warner Brothers, in: Fortune, Vol. 16, No. 6 (December 1937), p. 110.182

The weekly attendance of the American theaters in 1930 recorded 110 million; two years later this record went down1 83

to 60 million, and by 1933 was even lower. Hollywood started partially recovering by the mid of the 1930's; see KennethW. Leish, Cinema, New York: Newsweek Books 1974, p. 75.

Ethan Mordden, The Hollywood Studios: House Style in the Golden Age of the Movies. New York: Alfred A. Knopf184

1988, pp. 77&236.

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increasing waves. It was lead by certain individuals, who acted forcefully in theirown way and in their right to climb to the top: Al Capone in Chicago and ArnoldRothstein in New York were taken by Hollywood as source of inspiration top roduce a cycle of biographical gangster pictures. Public Enemy (1931), wasbased on Hymie Weiss’ life, and Little Caesar (1931) was inspired by AlCapone’s. Even after the latter went to prison in 1931 and Rothstein wasmurdered in 1928, history was made that carried on their names. This wouldsupply Hollywood with drama for decades to come. 181

Warner Brothers’ executive Darryl Zanuck established an economical formulafor the studio by adapting stories from the headlines of the daily newspapers.T hose s t ories dealt with the topics of people’s daily lives during the GreatDepression. These were themes of serious social content. Warner’s studio gaineda reputation by calling for social conscientiousness in society, and was the onlymajor studio that cared about ‘what is going on in America.’ The studio182

achieved great success in the industry. Little Caesar’s considerable acceptance,along with other successful sound pictures allowed Hollywood to make an easytransition through the hardest and earliest months of the Depression. As a part183

of the studio’s landmark-image and as in other genres of Warner, the crime cyclecreat ed its own aesthetical image on the screen by reflecting underworldviolence. The crime cycle illustrated its own screen image. In particular in thenighttime pictures, that portrayed lifeless streets and vacant localities, had athrilling mood of lighting and eerie camera work. All Warner Brothers’ picturesof the Thirties reflected a rapid rhythm which dealt with the age’s themes andmatters, but were at the same time socially and politically oriented. 184

In the second half of the decade, the gangster’s violent accent and

See Richard H. Pells, Radical Vision and American Dreams: Cultural and Social Thought in the Depression Years.185

New York: Harper & Row 1973, pp. 271-72&274.

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uncomp romising narrative started shifting toward a more didactical andcomp romising tone. The gangster film started focusing its narrative on themotives of crime in American society, instead of being attracted to violence. Theoutlaw hero changed accordingly. He started thinking about his actions. Hesearched for relief and love, and not to achieve power as he used to. The herowas no more a hard tough guy. He was alone and weak, isolated from society. Itwas an instructive message to the public. Warner Brothers’ Bullets or Ballets185

(1936) incorporated this changing tone toward law and order enforcement: afterWard Bryant (Henry O’Neill) is murdered, the first suspicion falls on the outlawAl Kruger (Humphrey Bogart). The captain, Dan McLaren (Joseph King), headsan investigation. McLaren is a friend of the former police detective Johnny Blake(Edward G. Robinson), who was fired from McLaren’s investigation for noobvious reason. While walking in the Bronx, Kruger asks Black to syndicate tohis organization, but it does not happen because Johnny is committed to stayinghones t . His friend Lee Morgan (Joan Blondell) offers him a position in hergames, but again Johnny does not accept. Instead he reconsiders Kruger’s offerunder order of his undercover police partner. Another anti-crime drama from thelate Thirties stressed the same formula. In The Roaring Twenties (1939), EddieBartlett’s (James Cagney) old love Jean Sherman (Priscilla Lane) loves theattorney Lloyd Hart (Jeffrey Lynn), who was Eddie’s friend and lawyerdefending his liquor hijacking and bootlegging business. Later Eddie quits hislife of crime to return to his old job as a cab driver. George Hally (HumphreyBogart) while under criminal charge of liquor bootlegging, learns that his friendLloy d has gathered evidence against him while he is working in the districtattorney’s office. George sends a death threat to Jean, the latter goes for helpfrom Eddie, who in turn goes to George and tries to cool him down, so that hedowsn’t hurt Lloyd and his wife Jean. George decides to take Eddie’s life, but thelatter pulls his gun and shoots George, before George’s partner shoots Eddie todeath. The same anti-crime accent was revealed in Samuel Goldwyn’s Dead End(1937), in which the hero is alone and searching for love.

The gangster genre was the only genre that projected the possible progress of anindividual in declining society, in which the authorities and the structure of thelegalit ies were bankrupt. Hollywood’s crime cycle was not so muchconcentrating on the absence of the law as focussing on the individualachievements and success portrayed by the hero. This myth of individual success

Andrew Bergman, We’re in the Money: Depression America and Its Films. New York: Harper & Row 1971, pp. 7&9.186

See Frank Manchel, Gangster on the Screen. New York: Franklin Watts 1978, p. 51.187

John Baxter, The Gangster Film. New York: A. S. Barnes 1970, p. 14.188

The German Counsel in Los Angeles sent a letter to the Production Code Administration (PCA) demanding the1 89

p re v ention of Warner Brothers producing the picture. Confession of a Nazi Spy achieved a record high at the box-officew o rl d w i d e , despite the film being banned in eighteen Latin American and European countries, including: Belgium,Ireland, Italy, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Argentina, Brazil, Costa Rica, and Japan; see the PCA and Motion PictureAssociation of America (MPAA)’s film and collection.

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‘was still at the core of what Americans held to be the American dream.’ CaesarEnrico Bandello (Edward G. Robinson) signified that dream, by following themodel of success established in the late nineteenth-century, i.e., reaching the top.But his ultimate reward was his death. After the social conditions of society186

changed, the gangster film had to shift with them. Hollywood’s obsession withus ing and reusing the same gangster formula of the prohibition world and“headline news” repeatedly for a decade, wore out the genre and caused a declinein public interest. Toward the end of the 1930's, thrills to the nation were nolonger emerging from within the society. Instead they were coming fromabroad. Moreover, what made the gangster film so popular in its heyday was187

the fact that it emerged from an era in which crime was familiar to everyone.When that time passed, the gangster became a legend of the past. Yet this cyclewould be remembered as being some of the most dramatic art that had reachedthe American screen. 188

After Nazi Germany declared war in Europe in 1939, the crime cycle had toadapt to a new style. Confession of a Nazi Spy (1939) was the first anti Nazi filmproduced in Hollywood. Its story was based on the United States governmentagent Leon G. Turrou’s book, who discovered a German spy ring in America.Carl Jules Weyl planned eighty-three sets for the Confession of a Nazi Spy,breaking all the records for the number of sets at the studio. The National Boardof Review designated the picture as one of the best films of 1939. The picture189

was followed by Warners’ Underground (1941), then by the United Artistscomedy-drama The Great Dictator (1941) and Paramount’s The Hitler Gang(1944).

Warner Brothers’ house style had another label during Hollywood’s RenaissanceAge, and that was the musical. It established the studio’s reputation as amatchless style-maker in the field. The mastermind behind this was Busby

See Ronald Haver, David O. Selznick’s Hollywood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1980, p. 146.190

Dale Thomajan, Poetry Without a Poet: Warner Bros. Pre-Code, in: Film Comment, Vol. 32, No. 2 (March-April191

1996), p. 70.

Tony Thomas, That’s Dancing! New York: Harry N. Abrams 1984, pp. 13&90.192

Te d Sennett, Hollywood’s Golden Year 1939: A Fiftieth-Anniversary Celebration of Great Hollywood Movies and1 9 3

Hollywood Musicals. New York: ST. Martin’s Press 1989, p. 160.

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Berkeley, who came to the studio from Broadway to revolutionize the dancingtradition, and liberate it from ‘the grip of the Broadway stage show style, largelyvariations of the old, military formation, rigidly controlled Jazz-tap format’. Insuch theatrical presentations ‘a precision group of high steppers would gothrough as series of routines based on simple movements in time to the music.’During the transition years, the immobility of the camera created static sceneswhen filming such musicals that involved heading-on dances with some cameraangles. Berkeley electrified the spatial by introducing a kaleidoscopic expressivedance style to the musical, with dynamic visualization, rhythm, and vitality.190

Berkeley’s new dance form ushered in a new era in dance interpretation with thecamera. His discovery of the camera’s bird eye view allowed him to experimentwith his flowery and kaleidoscopic patterns that kept moviegoers on the edge oftheir seats. Berkeley utilized spatial forms and attributes to help him form thecharacters/dance’s composition. Spatial organization was a significant part ofBusby Berkeley’s kaleidoscopic narrative composition on the screen.

Like the gangster cycle, the musical genre was Warner Brothers’ homespeciality. The two film genres were done well at the studio. In Hollywood’s pre-Code era, Warner’s musicals exceeded every other production in this genre.Berkeley’s work was ‘arguably’ superior even to the Astaire-Rogers musicals atRKO. Busby Berkeley’s liberation of the camera from its immobility when191

recording his expressive choreographic dance in 42 Street (1933) and Frednd

Ast aire’s true dance art in Flying Down to Rio (1933) at RKO, broughtuninterrupted attention to the musical genre for two decades to come. But192

toward the end of the 1930's, like the gangster film, the musical started shiftingtoward a new form of romance and comedy in its treatments. The new traditionin the musical pushed Berkeley’s style into the background, since it was less inpublic demand. In particular, after Busby Berkeley left Warner Brothers for193

MGM in late 1939, the same scale of Berkeley’s art was not seen again. Themusical started incorporating the new axiom of teenage sons’ and daughters’

L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, p. 227.194

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dreams. These were called the back yard, and were low budget musicals. AtM et ro, Berkeley directed the last number of the musical drama, BroadwaySerenade (1939), followed by his direction of the whole musical comedy, Babesin Arms (1939).

M any great artists contributed with their signatures to the formation ofHollywood’s scenographical style during its Golden Age. William CameronMenzies was one of them. He was the first film Scenographer ever to receive anAcademy Award for his work on The Dove (1927). His concept of spatialorganization was characterized by his mastery of perspectival treatment andcomposition layout. Art historians speak of Menziesian perspectives that aredescribed as ‘broken diagonal barriers which cross the frame like jagged slashesand usually turn up during scenes of tension, grief, and separation in the form offences, walls, palisades, [and] railings.’ Menzies’ artistic translation included194

lines , tonal and compositional treatments, light, shade, elaborate formdeformations, point-of-views and interpretations, which hallmarked his settingsand lent Menzies his unique place in scenographic history. Therefore, it is notsurprising to see that Menzies ranked among Hollywood’s most celebrated andhighly paid film Scenographers of that time. We might find a close relationshipbetween Menzies and Anton Grot’s conceptual work. Both artists utilized theirillustrative background to serve their dramatic description, while translating thescript in terms of dramatic settings. This close artistic match between the twomasters goes back to the days when they worked together at Fort Lee Studios.The Naulahka (1918) is one example of their association together.

Like Grot, Menzies had great talent for integrating spatial and perspective. Hiswork with Ben Carre in the part-talky and boxing drama The Iron Mask (1929)revealed Menzies’ sense of expressive abbreviation, and concentration on theessentials of the action. It was balanced with the characters’ composition, spatialsep aration (foreground, middle and background), manipulation of forms, andcontrasted light and shade. Menzies was a preferred film Scenographer of the1930's. The conceptual pre-layout of the pictures he was working on guided theproduction team to the most dramatic: camera angles, lighting values, and eventhe proper lens for the shot, which was a clarification rarely done by the age’sScenographers. It made the job easier for everyone working on the set withMenzies. His watercolor- and pencil- and sometimes ink-sketching technique

The actual translation of W. C. Menzies’ conception of the color organic unity in Gone With The Wind was executed195

b y t h e film Scenographer Lyle Wheeler and Edward G. Boyle, who added the period details to the picture; see RonaldHaver, David O. Selznick’s Hollywood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1980, p. 247.

Ted Sennett, Hollywood’s Golden Year 1939: A Fiftieth-Anniversary celebration of Great Hollywood Movies and1 9 6

Hollywood Musicals. New York: ST. Martin’s Press 1989, pp. 223&22.

W i l l iam Cameron Menzies: (1896 New Haven, Connecticut - 1956 Hollywood, California), educated at Yale1 9 7

U n iversity and at the Art Students League in New York. Menzies started as a children’s book illustrator. This illustrativelabel is apparent in Menzies’s style throughout his oeuvre, e.g. , The Son of The Sheik (1926), and Beloved Rogue (1927),t h e w a r s c e nes in Cavalcade (1933), that accent is visible even in his association with Lyle Wheeler in The Young inHeart (1938).

S e e W o lfgang Pehnt, Die Architektur des Expressionismus. Sttutgart: Gerd Hatje Verlag 1973 (Tr. by J. A.1 9 8

U n d e rw o o d and Edith Kustner, Expressionist Architecture. New York: Praeger Publishers 1973), p. 167; for furtherd e t a i l s a bout German Expressionism and its manipulation to the filmic spatial see; Ben J. Lubschez, The Cabinet of Dr.

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manifested his artistic talent and confidence. William Cameron Menzies’ spatialconcept revealed a highly visual efficiency and narrative quality.

Menzies’ highly effective visualization and artistic vision allowed him to bridgesmoot hly between two dissimilar scenes in Gone With the Wind (1939). Hesecured this organic unity through his use of color and composition, which heused to preserve a dramatic constancy in the screen image. Menzies sketched195

around two-thousand five-hundred frames advising both the camera and directoron every possible camera setting, angle, color, composition and light. Menzies-196

Lyle Wheeler’s (Illustration 14) work in the historical romance, Gone With theWind , illustrates what I would prefer to call post-card image principle. Eachframe of the feature had been transformed into a post-card composition on thescreen (see Illustrations 15-31), with painstaking period details and consistencythroughout 20,300 feet of (220 minutes) film. It won both masters an AcademyAward for their contribution. Today we might ask how the picture’s aestheticaloutlook would have appeared on the screen without that level of scenographicaland artistic participation. 197

Expressionistic scenographical stylization in the motion picture ‘provided anopportunity to investigate the psychological effects of form and space.’ Thisart istic outcome was recommended for study for those architects who hadconcerns regarding the suggestive form because Expressionist spatial code has‘expressive values of foreground, middleground and distance, of descending orascending diagonals, of a high and of a low horizon, of the space that slopeddownwards and the space that soared upwards.’ This spatial formula was198

Galigari, in: Journal of the American Institute of Architects, Vol. 9 (January-December 1921), pp. 213-216.

Drake Douglas, Horror! Woodstock, New York: The Overlook Press 1989, p. 67.199

Th e s u c cess of Frankenstein reached the level where children were dressing as the monster for Halloween; Peters2 0 0

B ro o k s , Mo n s t e r Madness, in: The Editors of the Variety (Ed.), The History of Show Business. New York: Harry N.Abrams 1993, pp. 52, 54&55.

See Richard H. Pells, Radical Vision and American Dreams: Culture and Social Thought in the Depression Years.201

New York: Harper & Row 1973, p. 269.

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evocatively adapted in Hollywood’s Scenographic Space. But when Hollywoodborrowed from this Germanic spatial style, American studios altered it to a formof their own. Some studios’ scenographical departments altered the style in theform of a Teutonic outlooking spatial, balanced with impressive camera angleorthodoxy (low-high, or skewed angles), low key indirect lighting, contrastedimages with painted light and shadow. This aesthetical visualization was presentwithin Universal’s spatial organization, which lent Universal its soubriquet as thehouse of the horror.

Ever since Universal’s release of Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931), thestudio launched a visual style of horror that was previously unknown to themotion picture. With this freakish visualization, Universal shifted from being199

on the edge of bankruptcy to being the most profitable studio of the year at thebox-office. Dracula or the monster (Bela Lugosi) was deliberately meant tofright en the audience and to be the center of perception. Dracula reached aconvincing degree of horror. ‘Nurses were stationed in some theaters to be onhand should any of the patrons faint in terror.’ During this time of Depression,the picture achieved enormous success. People were captivated by its mystery.It was something people had never seen before. Richard H. Pells observed the200

Thirties’ productions of the horror genre as being the most unsettling, with theircreat ion of a thrilling mood in the form of ‘lifeless forests and fog-boundswamps, crumbling castles and frightened townspeople, demented scientists andalien monsters.’ Apparently these aesthetic signs of the horror genre kept201

moviegoers sitting constrained in their seats and waiting for the monster’s nextmove.

During the 1930's, some monsters of the horror cycle were closely related to theconcealed anxieties of Americans. Throughout this time many people were leftwit h no work or food. Americans felt trapped by the Depression. Movieaudiences had sympathy with King Kong, because seeing him trapped in chains

Tom Powers, Movie Monsters. Minneapolis: Lerner publications 1989 ( Introduction). 202

Richard H. Pells, Radical Vision and American Dreams: Culture and Social thought in the Depression Years. New203

York: Harper & Row 1973, p. 270.

See Thomas G. Aylesworth, Monsters from the Movies. Philadelphia and New York: J. B. Lippicott 1972, p. 17. 204

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reminded them about the nation’s power and struggle against the unknown.202

T he horror cycle had a distinct standpoint regarding the threat of man-madeinnovation. In some way the monster’s thrilling behavior assisted in underliningevery one’s disbelief when faced with new innovation in society. Imagine themons t er not adapting to the known conventions of society. He should beforcefully changed or physically executed. The message of the horror genre tothe American viewer in the Depression era was: do not toy with unpredictablesolut ions and mysteries, as it may lead to unsatisfactory and treacherouscircumst ances. Still, in the next half of the decade, this horror tone beganchanging. It started introducing toleration and acceptance of the new as is,without tinkering with it. 203

When t he monster in Frankenstein (1931) refused adapting to the villagers’values and measures, it had to be destroyed. The monster was a resultingfabrication of the mad scientist, who tried only experimenting with the newwithout considering any emotional or ethical thoughts. In the Cairo Museum inThe Mummy (1932), the mummy wakes up from a deep death in the sarcophagus,killing the scientist whose ambition leads to its discovery, the former having notconsidered the consequences of his work. Aesthetically, this scene is probablythe most frightening ever produced in Hollywood’s horror genre. The Bride ofFrankenstein (1935) reflected the same venture into the unknown, where BaronFrankenstein is blackmailed by Doctor Pretorius into reviving his monster andfabricat ing a wife for him, which leads to a disastrous end. Pretorius, themonster, and his mate are all killed by the explosion of the tower.

Essentially, horror film relies in its narrative efficiency upon three foundations:on the ‘mysterious’ in addition to the ‘tremendous’ and the ‘fascinating.’ These204

components of the ghoulish image were convincingly introduced, for example,in Dracula (1931), and The Black Cat (1934). Whether it is camera-work orsetting, each of these two artistic interpretations of the picture compliment eachot her. Dracula’s setting reflected a Gothic stylization in the form of CountDracula’s castle, and this freakish visualization was persuasively translated in

John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood: Fifty Years of Art Direction. London: Thames Television205

1979, p. 45; L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 212&213.

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Karl Freund’s cinematography. Freund’s camera work realized the maximumdramatic efficiency of the set. Charles D. Hall, Herman Rosse, John Hoffman,and R. A. Gausman’s scenographic stylization in the interior of the centuries-oldvampire’s castle and surroundings, introduced organic unity matching with thespirit of the mysterious. The ascending stairway to the castle interior is vast,wide, worn out and surrounded by cobwebs in every corner. Its handrails havecrumbled over centuries, telling the visitor that the castle has been abandoned forages . The large lancet arch window looking to the stairs is Gothic. It wasconstructed in a wall built from the large stones of medieval times, and the treet hat had grown through the window manifested the times past in the lifelesscastle. All this has an immediate correspondence to the tremendousness ofTransylvanian mystery. Beams of light arrive on the set through the lancetwindow and make its surroundings visible, while the rest of the ScenographicSpace was left gloomy to appeal to the beholder’s imagination. This atmospherematched well the vampire’s life, who lives off the blood of humans and cannotwithstand the light of day. Our reading of this ghoulish composition startsgradually with the English businessman, Renfield (Dwight Frye), as he is greetedby Dracula himself, and we start looking up the stairway to the Count. He standsin front of the window exposed to the light, just to win the trust of his next victim(Renfield). The background lays in a patch of mysterious darkness to manifestthe unknown behind, where Dracula’s Gothic room was filled with out-of-shapeobjects and moody illumination. In that backroom, mise-en-scenes contradictevery vocabulary of those in the real world. Everything is over-dimensional. Thesame dreadful image of a Teutonic and Expressionistic atmosphere is present inthe magnificent cemetery and castle in The Black Cat. These boundaries of style,combined with other aesthetic signs -of indirect and contrasted lighting, mobilecamera, and frightening sound effects- placed the horror picture among the mostextraordinary of the horror genre during the Thirties.

T he artist who stood behind this masterful scenographic visualization of thehorror genre and its Teutonic image in its most memorable era, was the filmScenographer Charles Daniel Hall (born 1898 Norwich, England, died at theage of seventy in Hollywood -Illustration 32). He received his training in art,and began his career as an assistant in an architectural bureau. Hall moved laterto the scenographic field at Fred Karno’s shows. In 1908 he moved to Hamilton,Ontario/Canada. By the following year he had settled in Hollywood. From205

Originally the anti German, war-drama, The Road Back, was produced at Universal Studios to be an equivalent206

production to the success of All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). The picture never achieved that high dramatic level,nevertheless, the picture’s earnings listed it at the top of box-office revenues in 1936-37.

B y the time Charles D. Hall decided to continue his career as a freelance film Scenographer in 1948, the Supreme 2 0 7

Court declared the end of the monopoly incorporation of film production and exhibition within Hollywood studios. Thisa l s o me a n t t he end of the studios central control on the film Scenogrpaher’s activities, thereafter they were moreindependent as freelancer in the film productions.

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t here, Hall progressively climbed his way up to become one of the majorcontributors to Universal Studios’ aesthetical and trademark style, the house ofhorror. Charles D. Hall’s working period at Universal Studios was the mostfruit ful era of the horror film genre. In addition to his Gothic and TeutonicExpressionist scenographical style, the great film Scenographer proved his talentin dealing with the Moderne. Hall provided this modern stylization, for instance,in his over-dimensional and striking setting of the Paradise Night Club in thebackstage musical Broadway (1929), and in the shyster drama Counsellor atLaw (1933).

Charcoal and watercolor were used in Hall’s sketching technique. His sense oforganic unity, Teutonic mood, and dread-inspiring composition were highlyeffective in his horror pictures. Despite Universal’s strict economical policy andbudget restrictions in spending on film scenography, Hall placed horrorscenographical style on a historical level. We could ask: would these horror filmshave reached that high level without Danny Hall’s visualization, and what couldHall have achieved on the screen without the limitations imposed on him by thestudio? Apparently Hall was not satisfied with the studios’ regulations, as he leftUniversal Studios so early, after finishing The Road Back (1937). After Hall206

quit from Universal, he did not produce any dramatic art of the same quality torival that which he had achieved at the house of horror. He devoted himself tocommercial film scenography at Hal Roach Studios, and spent the final stage ofhis career as a freelance Scenographer for various studios.207

For Hollywood’s contemporary horror writer, Anne Rice suggested, maintaininga high level of narrative visual quality in the horror film requires the horrorformula to be complete when constructing a scene. This would be reached by‘building scenes carefully, lighting them so that you go into the mood of thescene and you share the mood of the people on the screen.’ In addition to thisdramatic surrounding, the characters should offer certain degrees of tragic

Cf. Anne Rice, The Art of Horror in Film, in: Christopher Golden (Ed.), Cut!: Horror Writers on Horror Film. New208

York: Berkeley Books 1992, p. 200.

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dimensions. This conception of the narrative quality of horror films was208

persuasively achieved in the first half of the Thirties. During this time, the horrorcy cle provided dramatic balance and conceivability between the dramaticimplication of the monster and the space he was living and moving in. CharlesD. Hall’s association with Herman Rosse in Frankenstein (1931), revealed thisdramatic equilibrium in the screen image. The picture’s sets included an exteriorcemetery, dreadful and gloomy, a Bavarian village, a windmill, and the interiorsetting for the laboratory of the mad scientist Henri Frankenstein (Colin Clive).These aesthetic signs, together with their data, were the essential components oft he p ict ure’s narrative and visual quality. When the picture was released inneighborhood movie theaters, it began with a prologue from an announcer, whowould step from behind a curtain to warn the patrons of the horrifying nature ofthe picture they were about to see: in the main story at the funeral (the cemeteryscene) the mad scientist Henry Frankenstein, assisted by the dwarf Fritz (DwightFrye), dig up a freshly buried body claiming that the corpse is waiting for a newlife. They move a man hanging from a gibbet whose neck is broken, and thesituation requires that a new brain be found. The best place to obtain this is theGoldstadt Medical College, where Doctor Waldman, Henry’s former professor,lectures. After dropping a bottle containing a normal brain, Fritz leaves withanother containing the brain of a criminal. The next set is a principal one in theunfolding of the screen fabula. It is Henry’s laboratory: a watchtower in themountains, which is equipped with up-to-date, high tech power and lightingequipment to charge their electrical mechanisms, and to lend life to the pieced-together body. The set is equipped with chains, an anatomy table, and powerchannels. It was illuminated by Thomas A. Edison’s new incandescent light. Thelaboratory walls are overwhelmingly high, resembling the trapped nation andinvolvement in the unknown (Depression). After the new body comes to life, themonster kills Fritz, drowns little Maria from the Bavarian village, then escapest o t he mountains. The final set we see is a resemblance to an old lookingwindmill- Hall and Rosse inspired this setting from a building in Los Angeleswhich housed a local bakery, Van de Kamp, which displayed a large windmillas its corporate logo. Villagers go through the mountains by torchlight until theyfind the monster hiding in the abandoned mill. The mob sets the mill in flamesin order to end the life of the monster. The same narrative formula is present inThe Mummy (1932), The Invisible Man (1933), The Black Cat (1934), and The

Richard H. Pells, Radical Visions and American Dreams: Culture and Social Thought in the Depression Years. New209

York: Harper & Row 1973, p. 274.

See Ethan Mordden, The Hollywood Studios: House Style in the Golden Age of the Movies. New York: Alfred A.2 1 0

Knopf 1988, p. 350; and also Edward Edelson, Great Monsters of the Movies. Garden City, New York: Doubleday 1973,pp. 53-54.

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Bride of Frankenstein (1935) among others. If any of these mysterious, dreadfuland sensational aesthetic signs in this film genre are missing, it means generallythat we are dealing with horror as an after thought, and not with the true art formof the horror film.

Gangster pictures, like monster pictures, called upon the beholder’s imaginationto relinquish their antisocial actions. The two cycles ‘appeared to act as a safetyvalve for the latent feelings of violence and hostility to which men wereordinarily inclined.’ Toward the late Thirties, major changes started happening209

at Universal that caused a definite alteration in visual style of the house of horror.After Charles D. Hall left Universal Studios in 1937, the decline of the horrorfilm genre began. Karl Freund, the artist behind the horror image on the screen,also left, then the director James Whale followed Hall’s departure. Almost allof the masterminds behind the ghoulish image were no longer at Universal.Meanwhile, horror pictures started suffering from the routine repetition of thethemes and aesthetic formulas of the early pictures. They started adding moremonsters onto the screen who fought together, without any of the old aestheticalhonesty. The monster became a character you might laugh at instead of beingfright ened. With these alterations to the accent of the horror formula, the210

horror genre started losing ground and became funny, not scary. The genres t art ed relying on the tremendous, and not paying attention to the visualimportance and the original style of the mysterious. In the Son of Frankenstein(1939), and the Tower of London (1939), we miss such artistic originality andorganic unity in the scenographic stylization. The Son of Dracula (1943) paidmore attention to the character’s appearance, and betrayed inconceivablehandling. This concentration on the one side of the horror formula at the expenseof the other caused disinterest in the late horror films.

Bauhaus notably inspired various American art fields and their modernconceptions, especially after some American students graduated from theBauhaus, came home, and were followed by the Bauhaus’s teachers after 1933'sGerman revolution. Applied art, stage scenography, architecture, painting,chrome chairs, and fixtures were among other modern art forms that became

See Leonardo Benevolo, Storia dell’architettura moderna. Bari: Editori Laterza 1960 (Ubers. Von Elisabeth Serelman,2 1 1

Geschichte der Architektur des 19. Und 20. Jahrhunderts. Munchen: George D. W. Gallwey 1964), p. 323.

John Baxter, Hollywood in the Thirtieth. New York: A. S. Barnes 1968, pp. 33&34.212

Due to their international popularity and distinct performance style, the three master artists (Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd)2 1 3

c o n t i n u e d to produce silent films and were able to overcome the transition; see Thomas W. Bohn and Richard L.S t ro mg ren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: AlfredPublishing 1975, pp. 218&220.

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, pp. 142&143.214

See Gerald Mast, A Short History of the Movies. Indianapolis: Pegasus 1971, p. 289.215

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influenced by the Dessauer Bauhaus in America. Moreover, the Bauhaus’211

influence reached Hollywood, and in particular changed Paramount’s aestheticalstyle, since the latter had its sisters’ studios UFA-EFA providing Paramount withits most notable style-makers, as we have seen earlier.

Paramount’s Scenographical stylization was integrated as an essential part of thestudio’s pictures. Spatial properties were enlightening, but sometimescommanded the overall flow of the pictures’ dramatic mood. Paramount’scinematographers used a skillfully diffused and soft lighting effect, which loadedeven the thinnest story with dramatic significance. With the emergence of212

sound into the motion pictures, the new medium influenced the comedy film themost. To adapt to the new change, comedy started relying more on voiced humor.Old forms of silent comedy started disappearing. Marx Brothers’ burlesquecomedy emerged at Paramount. It relied on the advantage of sound andsometimes on their picturesque tableaux. They expressed their art in ‘dadaistic,stream of consciousness dialogue that provided the true comic dimension to theircharacters.’ By shifting the comedy’s manner from the visual action to the213

spoken word, Hollywood’s need for trained voices was urgent, since the newtalent had to be able to deal with the new medium (sound). Hollywood attracteda great number of vaudevillian characters, some of whom came from Broadway.Among these newcomers from the stage were Marx Brothers (Groucho, Chico,Harpo, and Zeppo). Each of the Marxs had his own distinctive artistic quality.With their uncommon performing style, they soon became internationally knowncomedic figures. The Marx Brothers combined the essential constituents of214

American sound-visual comedy in their pictures. Marx’s visualization qualitymatched well with their characters, action and comic lines. This concept of the215

dadaistic sound comedy was notably present in the burlesque classic Animal

A n d re w Bergman, We’re in the Money: Depression America and Its Films. New York: Harper & Row 1971, pp.2 1 6

132&133.

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Crackers (1930) in which Groucho and Chico were wondering how and wherea very valuable painting has been lost from the house: Groucho: Suppose nobody in the house took the painting?Chico: Go to the house next door.Groucho: Suppose there isn’t any house next door?Chico: Then, of course, we gotta build one.

The Marx Brothers’ sound comedy of the early Thirties eased, or tried to easep ainful memories cause by the harsh Depression. Their destructive bent anddisorderliness kept people laughing, and kept them aware of the hard real world.Artistically, these early pictures of Marx’s are ageless. They delivered a newnarrative style. The Cocoanuts (1929), Animal Crackers (1930), MonkeyBusiness (1931), Horsefeathers (1932), or Duck soup (1933) all have theirartistic qualities. The Marx Brothers’ last dadaistic sound comedy at Paramountreached t he heights of anarchy and lawlessness, not to mention streamlinedstylization in its settings. Wealthy widow Gloria Teasdale (Margaret Dumont)forces the Freedonian government to accept Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho Marx) asthe republic leader. Firefly does not behave as a president is supposed to. Thisencourages the Ambassador Trentino of Sylvania, with the help of Vera Marcal(Raquel Torres), to take the control over the Freedonian republic, after marryingM rs . T easdale. The picture resembled a typical chaos formula of the MarxBrothers: war, land-caricature, conflicts, wealth-hunters and trials. On the otherhand, at Paramount, Ernst Lubitsch had another form of sound comedy, but hishad a European accent, witty and sly. Monte Carlo (1930), One Hour With You(1932), and the high polished and romantic comedy Trouble in Paradise (1932)are classified a typical Lubitschians. Trouble in Paradise might be described asLubitsch’s most sparkling and effective sound comedy after the advent of thetalkies. Lubitsch took the most advantage of sound in this picture. Using eithersp arkling dialogue or feeding music into the background Lubitsch couldhighlight and underline the picture’s dramatic moments.

By mid-decade, Hollywood introduced a new form of comedy, ‘warm andhealing, yet off-beat and airy.’ “Screwball” comedy, as the new form was termedby film critics, reflected solidarity against weakness in a classless society andcooperative America. Screwball cycle was the reaction to Depression America.216

This new narrative form of comedy reunited people after being separated by the

Ibid. pp. 133&134.217

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effects of the Depression and its impact on the American social life. Its“ wackiness” brought family members back under one roof again, fixed failedmarriages and associated separated classes with each other. By contrast to thechaotic and disorderly manner of early 1930's comedy form (Marx Brothers’),or t he witty and sly (Lubitschian) form, screwball comedy (mostly FrankCapra’s) was implosive, fixing what the Depression destroyed. 217

At Columbia, Frank Capra’s work reflected that warm, highly esteemed andhealing narrative form. Capra’s picture’s touched upon the sentiment and dreamsof the average classes during the hardest days of their lives. It Happened OneNight (1934), Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), You Can’t Take It With You(1938), and the masterpiece political comedy-drama Mr. Smith Goes toWashington (1939) are typical Capra comedies. In his latter picture, he stressedM r. Smith’s (James Stewart) idealism and struggle against the politicalcorruption in America, opposing the fraud between the United States Senatorsand the American political bosses. Mr. Smith never forgot where he came fromand he struggled to bring order and peace to the people who elected him.

A romantic accent was something unimportant in Marx Brothers’ early burlesquecomedy. The exception to this was The Cocoanuts (1929). Romance took off intheir films until they moved to MGM in the next half of the Thirties. Underins t ruct ions from Irving Thalberg they altered their style from disorder andlawlessness to one which was more organized and less chaotic, involving moredialogue with affair involvements. Yet Marxian’s dadaistic, verbal form ofcontradiction and irrelevancy continued delivering somewhat surrealistic visionsfrom their early pictures: like Harpo’s attempt to light his cigar with a telephonereceiver in Duck Soup (1933); in At the Circus (1939) they matched the sameaccent. When Groucho and Margaret Dumont play a romance scene next to thewindow, Groucho declares his love to her. Suddenly a giraffe’s head appearsthrough the window, and the giraffe starts licking Dumont’s exposed back.

The Marx Brothers’ tribute to the world of comedy matched well with Americanideals and progress. Their art was a criticism aimed at any model of control,authority, schooling and culture of human fabrication that destroyed the innocentnobility of human kind. The Marx Brothers’ brand of optimistic comedy is very

See Allen Eyles, The Marx Brothers: Their World of Comedy. South Brunswick, New York: A. S. Barnes 1966, p.218

175.

Nancy Naumburg, We Make the Movies. New York: W.W. Norton 1937, p. 275.219

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valuable in our present age, in which many are so disoriented or pessimistic.218

Paramount’s sound comedy was sustained with the idol of the Moderne: smoothlines and surfaces, chrome chairs or streamliner all furnished the background ofthe comedy and maintained its mood. Not much is spoken today about the spacethat was framing Marx’s pictures. It notably enhanced the narrative quality of theburlesque genre, and sustained it achieving the high dramatic level that itreached. Paramount’s highly praised chief film Scenogapher was born in the HansestadtBremen, Germany, in 1885. He received his professional training in architecturefrom the University of Munich. After working as an architect supervisor for theGerman Imperial Government in Cameron, West Africa for three years, hereturned to Berlin in 1919 to work at the UFA studios. Hans Dreier (Illustration33) joined Ernst Lubitsch on two pictures of Emil Jannings, from 1919-1923. Heemigrated to America in 1923 -after Lubitsch’s invitation- to lead Paramount’sfilm scenographical department. Hans Dreier remained at the studio for the rest219

of his career. Hans Dreier made scenograpic history throughout his twenty-seveny ear career at Paramount. Simplicity, organic unity, balance, richness, andinventiveness hallmarked his scengraphical style. Hans Dreier’s spatialinterpretation delivered a remarkable degree of balance between the Moderneand t he architectural form. His spatial conceptualization maintained a trueequilibrium between the pro-Americana internal manner and rhythm, and theEurop ean outlook. Dreier combined modern architectural stylization and theFunctional aesthetic in his settings; in Trouble in Paradise (1932), the pictureexhibits a highly stylized form of Art Deco setting: mirrors, beds for dreams, andother mise-en-scenes calling for the Moderne. Dreier brought the Bauhaus’ ethicand artistry with him from Germany. He introduced a new accent of flat whiteand abbreviated surfaces, with the essentials of the Moderne, e.g., clocks, forms,chandeliers, chrome components, light fixtures, glass brick, and spaciousness, allof which were portrayed under diffused, soft and indirect lighting effects.Dreier’s charcoal, and ink sketching technique revealed his sharp sense for thespatial and its composition. Yet Dreier had the talent of capturing a simplicity inhis settings that was integrated with the dramatic means of the screen’s narrativeaction. These spatial attributes were elaborately manifested in Paramount’s Softy

John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood: Fifty Years of Art Direction. London: Thames Television220

1979, p. 5; one of this study’s objectives is to fairly give the right place to the right the men, who worked hard behindt h e s c re e n, contributed to Hollywood’s Renaissance Age, and stayed in the darkness, while they could not prevent thedecision makers from abusing their talents, who took it for the sake of their own advantage. ‘Van Nest Polglase fori n s t a n c e was very good as an executive and administrator’ as outlined in the words of Orson Welles, who worked withRKO’s team closely, ‘but if he ever designed anything himself, I never saw it.’ See ibid., Foreword; Cedric Gibbonsa l w a y s h a d c re d i t on every picture produced at Metro; see Donald Deschner, Edward Carfagno MGM Art Director, in:The Velvet Light Trap, Vol. 18 (Spring 1978), p. 30; still, film historians agree that the “Oscar” statuette is a product that

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in Numbers (1930), Monte Carlo (1930), Monkey Business (1931), One HourWith You (1932), Duck Soap (1933), A Bed Time Story (1933), and Artists andModels (1937). Dreier and his department significantly contributed to lendingParamount its trademark label: the house of world comedy.

Although today’s film formalists along with Hollywood historians are praisingJosef Von Sternberg for his exceptional artistic visualization on the screen andhis best pictures at Paramount, they should also credit the forgotten men behindVon Sternberg’s image and composition. Hans Dreier and his associates deservesuch recognition for their aesthetical participation in the Von Sternberg-MarleneDietrich cycle. These artists are the men who balanced the image of Hollywood’sgreat director (Von Sternberg), and provided the latter’s image with an additionalaccent of sensitive realism. Paramount’s scenographic department payed greatattention to period detail and texture, specifically in the major scenes and theirsettings, so as to convey a sense of attention-arresting dramatic quality. Thisrealistic translation created a mood of urban outlook, diffused light and skillfullyscattered shadows, and may be seen in: Morocco (1930), Dishonored (1931),Shanghai Express (1932), The Scarlet Empress (1934), and The Devil is aWoman (1935). Dreier had around twenty-seven associate film Scenographersworking under his supervision. He credited his team for their hard work everymorning when he came in to his department and checked their sketches andtechnical achievements every morning. Hans Dreier was a true art mentor andteacher. He died in 1966, in Bernardsville, New Jersey.

Like Van Nest Polglase, Cedric Gibbons (Illustration 34) was more of a jobadministrator than an artist planning sets for 1930's film scenographical style. Anobvious unfairness exists that cannot be ignored in this paper, concerning ‘CedricGibbons’ contract’ which ‘ensured that his name appeared on every filmproduced by MGM between 1924 and 1956, and he received Academy Awardsfor eleven of them.’ Not every film Scenographer worked on the one thousandfive-hundred pictures in this time frame at the studio, was covered together withGibbons’ name. An immediate focus on his career would reveal how far220

was originated by Cedric Gibbons himself.

‘Above all [Hugo Ballin] has kept his background subdued and his floors free of cluttering furniture. Consequently,221

t h e a c t o rs c a n be easily detected on the screen, even by the most unpracticed eye.’ see Kenneth MacGowan, Enter-theA rt i s t , in: Photoplay (January 1921), p. 74; Gibbons would carry that principle of film Scenographic simplificationn o t a b l y throughout his career; see George P. Erengis, Cedric Gibbons: Set a Standard for Art Direction that Raised theMovies’ Cultural Level, in: Films in Review (April 1965), pp. 217-18&232.

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M et ro’s chief film Scenogarpher Cedric Gibbons contributed to Metro’sscenographical style.

Cedric Austin Gibbons (born 1893 Brooklyn, died 1960 Los Angeles) did nothave an interest in taking over his father and grandfather’s architectural businessin New York City. After he graduated from the Art Students League, he startedassisting the respected painter and stage Scenographer Hugo Ballin, who taughtGibbons the principles of simplicity and introduced him to the motion picturescenography at Thomas Alva Edison’s studios in Bedford Park in 1914. With thefounding of Goldwyn Pictures Corporation in early 1916, Cedric Gibbons washired as the studios’ chief Scenogrpher. He moved with the studio to California,and stayed there after the emergence of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, until he suffereda crippling stroke in 1956. A retrospective view on Cedric Gibbons’ early221

spatial concept would reveal his preference for modern and abbreviated spatialorganization. Gibbons’ film scenography featured bright tonal treatment, flat andwhite surfaces, and stressed the essential of the simplistic conceptualization inhis sets. This spatial interpretation was clearly stated in one form or another inGibbons’ early pictures, some of which included: Thais (1917), Shadows (1919),The World and Its Woman (1919), Madam X (1920), The Man Who HadEverything (1921), Doubling for Romeo (1921), Yolande (1922), or Little OldNew York (1922).

Cedric Gibbons was well convinced of his spatial concept, and to him nothingelse would be acceptable. He stretched this theory to such an extent that it mayhave caused something of a anachronism in matters of period styles andaut hent icity. Sometimes Gibbons even altered the period styles in order top reserve the image he had in mind. ‘There are grand ballrooms in May Time(’37) and Conquest (’38) which should be, by rights, gilded, damasked andcry s talled to the nines. But Gibbons had his own stylization and aestheticalbelief, therefore he ‘did them in glittering white. At one time white wasimpractical on a set because of the halos and weird glowing fogs around

‘In Marie Antoinette [1938] Gibbons’ stylizations were bolder. Much of the action took place in a building familiar2 2 2

to fifty million Frenchmen and to millions of men and women of other nationalities, i.e., the Palace at Versailles. Tod u plicate so well known, and dramatically unsuitable, an edifice in Culver City would have been folly. The actual Palaceh a s no “main” entrance of any importance, the principal entry being at the far end, the wrong end, of a long wall. Therei s n o s t airway of any consequence inside the structure that would befit any of the Louis, let alone Norma Shearer. Andthe 300-foot long Hall of Mirrors would photograph like a very glittery tunnel.’ See ibid., pp. 225&226; the same occurredd u ring filming Paris in 1925, where Gibbons tried convincing Irving Tharlberg that a romantic scene can not be arrangedw i t h mo on light and ocean, while Paris was oceanless; see John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood:Fi f t y Y e a rs of Art Direction. London: Thames Television’s 1979, p. 54; Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Directionin the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina and London: McFarland 1990, p. 66.

Cedric Gibbons, The Art Director, in: Stephen Watts (Ed.), Behind the Screen: How Films are Made. London: Arthur223

Barker 1938, p. 43.

Mary Corliss and Carlos Clarens, Designed for Film: The Hollywood Art Director, in: Film Comment, Vol. 14 (May-224

Jun 1978), p. 36.

The New York Times (August 2, Saturday 1930); see also The New York Times (May 28, Tuesday 1929).225

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highlights it produced on black-&-white film.’ By his insistence on having his222

own spatial form, Metro’s chief of the scenographical department imposed aform of practical simplicity on the process, suiting the art of the film setting.T echnically, after the improvements of faster films, Gibbons’ theory ofintroducing overall white or lighter tones in the set was feasible. Cedric Gibbons’scenographic concept matched well with Moderne and its practical simplicity onthe screen. It was no accidental occurrence that Gibbons’ department was theleader in introducing the Moderne onto Hollywood’s screen. Gibbons hadsurgical eyes for mise-en-scene material and spatial composition.

When t he scenographic translation preserves some level of simplicity andsubmit s t o the screen story, it means that the motion picture’s spatialorganization is tracking the correct path. Boris Leven, who worked with Cedric223

Gibbons and then with Hans Dreier, stressed his appreciation of an impressiveaccent of simplicity, because simplicity, for Boris Leven, was fundamental in hisscenographic interpretation. Further praise for a convincing simplification of224

scenographic organization was found in the Moderne. The New York Timesapplauded Metro and Universal’s modern settings, with their angular and straightlines. Art Deco induced functional simplicity and enabled the average beholder225

to read the scene at ease.

Metro’s spatial concept of the Moderne introduced flat-wall surfaces, smoothlines, modern chrome chairs, or glass table-furnishings and abbreviated forms.This accent of simplicity reflected the highly narrative setting’s formula that was

R o nald Haver, David O. Selznick’s Hollywood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1980, p. 141; Richard Neutra’s2 2 6

‘F u n k t i o nalismus’ in his architectural style attracted the film moguls to have their own residences built in the functionala e s t h e tic style; see Leonardo Benevolo, Storia dll’ Architettura Moderna. Bari: Editori Laterza 1960 (Ubers. VonEl i sabeth Serelman, Geschichte der Architecture des 19. Und 20. Jahrhunderts. Munchen: George D. W. Callwey 1964),p . 3 0 4 ; fu n ctionalism in the architectural world was the accepted slogan during the high Depression era in the moderna rc h i t ecture; see Elizabeth Mock (Ed.), Built in USA 1932-1944. New York: The Museum of Modern Art, May 1944 (2nd

Ed., October 1944) , pp. 5-25.

See Richard J. Neutra, Homes and Housing, in: George w. Robbins and L. Deming Tilton (Ed.), Los Angeles: Preface227

t o a M a ster Plan. Los Angeles: The Pacific Southwest Academy 1941, p. 196; see also Jan & Cora Gordon, Star-Dustin Hollywood. London: George G. Harrap 1930, pp. 134&135; one acre = 4000 square meters = 43560 square feet.

See David Bordwell, The Films of Carl-Theodor Dreyer. Berkeley: University of California Press 1981, p. 37.228

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based on logic and reason. Gibbons and his associate Scenographers had a sharpsense for contemporaneous spatial stylization. In the late 1920's and throughmost of the Thirties they highlighted the screen with the most memorable spatialforms of the Moderne. Our Dancing Daughters (1928), Our Modern Maidens(1929), Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise (1931), Possessed (1931), andBroadway Melody of 1936 (1935) are a few highlights of the film setting’sGolden Age exhibiting this functional simplicity.

M errill Pye introduced the Moderne into his early streamlined settings inDancing Lady (1933). Pye, Metro’s film Scenographer, offered the Moderne inits true simplistic form: flat mise-en-scenes’ surfaces, horizontal accents, tonalvalues distinction, and smooth and curved lines with glossy surfaces. It called foropulence and practicality, but was imbued with narrative simplicity. Within onlya short period of time, Art Moderne revolutionized American life, including theAmerican home itself. As with the Moderne, Hollywood’s film scenographical226

stylization influenced the period architecture in and around the Los Angeles area.This influence was apparent in the half-acre lots in the form of Islamic minaretsor mission spires, British farm houses, Georgian plantations, or seventeenth andeighteenth century French countrified architecture, not to mention MexicanRanchos. 227

In order to sustain a narrative action, traditional Hollywood film practice treatedthe spatial as anthropomorphic, and regarded the character’s form in the spaceas an anthropocentric scale for every spatial dimension. Hollywood’s filmic228

sp ace is also filled with additional perceptive and psychological cues. Theymaintained narrative quality in the classic Hollywood image on the screen, andcontributed to the success of the American film. When Elegance was combinedwit h sp lendor, vitality and romance, they formed the essentials of screen

Margaret Farrand Thorp, America At the Movies. London: Faber and Faber 1946, p. 49-70.229

Frank Lloyd Wright opposed any academic norm, commercial, or even borrowing from the past, or modern-claccism;230

s e e Leonardo Benevolo, Storia dell’ Architettura Moderna. Bari: Editori Laterza 1960 (Ubers. Von Elisabeth Serelman,Geschicte der Archictektur des 19. Und 20. Jahrhunderts. Munchen: George D. W. Callwey 1964), p. 293.

F ra nk Lloyd Wright is one of the first architects in the architectural history who discontinued the conventional2 3 1

a n g u l a r fo rm of the living room, and the first architect who reincorporated the patio as a center locality into the home;s e e S i e g fri ed Giedion, Space, Time and Architecture: The Growth of a New Tradition. Cambridge, Massachusetts:Harvard University Press 1941 (1949, 1954, 1962, and the 5 Ed. 1967), p. 428. th

W i l l i a m J. R. Curtis, Modern Architecture Since 1900. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall 1983, p. 200; for2 3 2

i n s t a n c e , ‘Frank Lloyd Wright’s 1909 Robie House . . . in Chicago, which defines the style, departs from classicalarchitecture in favor of natural materials and horizontal volumes that echo the midwestern prairie. Wright (1867-1959),who believed that “the reality of a building is not the container but the space within,” designed many of the interiors ofhis houses, including the furnishings, stained-glass windows and carpets.’ See Architectural Digest (April 1999), p. 277.

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narrative. Hollywood treated these spatial and perceptual signs with care. They229

might feature or relate to the Moderne or other spatial levels, but all weresubmissive to the narrative of the screen story. MGM’s scenographical department tried hard to formulate the studio’s ownaes t het ical style. Gibbons and his team seriously strived to create the mostAmerican image on Hollywood’s screen. Admirably, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’sartists were competent enough to deliver the most distinctive spatial expositiont o hit the screen compared to the rest of Hollywood’s studios, which weremostly being run by newcomers from Europe. Cedric Gibbons’ doctrines had tobe followed by his staff, regarding any adaptation to any style. Metro’sscenographical translation favored and achieved the Americana architecturaldream par excellence. This distinctive spatial form had remarkable parallels withthe master American architect Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural conception.Gibbon’s department used much of Wright’s architectural ideals as a source ofinspiration in the studio’s scenography. Frank Lloyd Wright was an architectwho eagerly distanced his architecture from any foreign influence, and230

established the foundation of contemporary architecture. In his living space henever ignored people and their needs. Moreover, ‘Wright placed his own231

organic ideal with its emphasis on the inner vitality of expression, on the fusionof structure, function, and idea, and on the inspiration of natural forms.’ 232

In M et ro’s scenographical stylization of the Art Deco period, Gibbons’department adapted some ideas of Wright’s spatial concept. In Five and Ten andA Free Soul (1931), MGM’s Scenographers borrowed from Wright’s early

Th ese characteristics were introduced in Frank Lloyd Wright’s modern housing architecture of the 1930's, and in2 3 3

his architectural concept of the Imperial Hotel building in Tokyo.

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p eriod: a horizontal accent, simplification of clean and smooth lines, flatsurfaces, and abbreviated forms, all of which were integrated within plenty ofsp ace. Yet Wright’s integration of the natural and architectural forms wasborrowed at Columbia by Cary Odell, Stephen Goosson, Lionel Banks and PaulMurphy, through their spatial configuration of the picturesque lamasery settingfor the fantasy drama Lost Horizon (1937). More on Hollywood’s applications233

of the Moderne will follow in the next chapter.

Cedric Gibbons and his staff were committed to a spatial concept that had tosus t ain MGM’s glamorous image on the screen, i.e., house style. Anythingappealing and up-to-date became an homage to Metro’s scenographic stylization.Gibbons and his staff explored further with the Moderne of architectural form.Scenographically speaking, Merrill Pye and Gibbons found in the roof stairwayof t he Swiss architect, Le Corbusier, a form of inspiration for Our ModernMaidens (1929). The functional aesthetic produced by the stairway had a smoothand t wis t ed artistic form, and climbed around the angular shaped Art Decofireplace chimney. Smooth, vertical and repeated angular forms behind theportal counterbalanced the scenographic composition by matching the rhythm ofthe zigzagged forms around the arched portal and the curved stairs (Illustration35). The arch served as a frame to the action space and contained the narrative,while the dynamical form and rhythm of the stairway toward the foreground arepersuasively centered within the portal. The curved form of the ascending stairswas emphasized by the iron bannisters’ cycloramic lines. Simplicity wascharacterized in the abbreviation of the spatial objects, and the reduction wentdown to one object (sofa), which was surrounded by the narrative action. In theearlier work Our Dancing Daughters (1928), Gibbons used a similar spatialcomposition of stairs and portals, but this time the stairway surrounded theportals.

Metro offered another distinguishable trademark cycle of opulence and splendort hroughout the decade, in which it tried to take full advantage of sound. TheMerry Widow (1934), and San Francisco (1936), for instance, presented notablep eriod settings combined with the dramatic sound of Jeanette MacDonald’ssongs. In The Merry widow, Frederic Hope and Cedric Gibbons portrayed therealis tic interiors of late nineteenth century Paris; Harry McAfee, Edwin B.Willis, Arnold Gillespie and Gibbons recreated the magnificent American

Bill Ihnen, Robert Boyle, and Boris Leven were among those architects who were forced to continue their life as film234

S c e n o g ra h ers; see Mary Corliss and Carlos Clarens, Designed for Film: The Hollywood Art Director, in: Film Comment,V o l . 14 (May-Jun 1978), p. 56; other celebrities from the film Scenographic field followed the same path, they had theirp ro fe s s ional training and background in the architectural field: Metro’s (Preston Ames, William Horning, and MerrillPye), Salsznicks’s (Lyle Wheeler), only to name few.

Metro’s highly skilled craftsmanship behind the screen lent the studio its nick name “The House of Glamour”; Frank235

Miller, MGM Posters: The Golden Years. Atlanta: Turner Publishing 1994, p. 30; Cedric Gibbons realized: in satisfying

his employer (Louis B. Mayer) he could have a free hand in his department. His ego would not allow him to see or talkt o t h e n e w a ssociates, after months or even after years from their beginning at MGM. His signature was a law, withoutit, no set can be executed on the studio lot.

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architecture of San Francisco. Tenements and houses featured the city in theearly years of this century, and enhanced the drama of the picture. These setswere loaded with dramatic sound and songs. San Francisco was nominated foran Academy Award for best picture, but lost it to The Great Ziegfeld (1936). Thesame formula of narrative spatial organization balanced with sound is evident inThe Wizard of Oz (1939). But toward the end of the decade, MGM’s musicalsstarted shifting toward less opulent and more urban styles. Backyard or teenagemusicals were low budget productions produced on the studios’ lots.Thoroughbreds Don’t Cry (1937), Love Finds Andy Hardy (1938), and Babes inArms (1939) are typical productions of this period.

Mass unemployment during the Depression era stopped most of the buildingactivities in the United States, which left many architects with no work.Consequently, unemployed architects found a tailor-made job market in theHollywood scenographical departments. Yet not everyone could find a job in234

Hollywood. The Depressions’ harsh impact on social life in America became abeneficial advantage for Hollywood studios. MGM’s chief Scenographer was inthe position to select and hire the most talented men of the field to join his staff.Admirably Cedric Gibbons had a sharp sense for talent, and the market allowedhim t o be selective. Gibbons was a man who introduced his scenographicalthoughts in terms of architectural forms and conceptions. Unlike Anton Grot,Charles D. Hall, or William Cameron Menzies’ artistic translation and formmanip ulation, Cedric Gibbons’ artistic vision and problem-solving approachenabled him to deliver and sustain a high Scenographical level in one ofHollywood’s leading studios for more than forty-one uninterrupted years. CedricGibbons thus justly deserves a place in film scenographical history. 235

Samuel Goldwyn and United Artists’ film Scenographer between 1930 and 1938,Richard Day (Illustration 36), ‘soon began to feel that he was being held back

‘At MGM, with Gibbons’ name always preceding (or replacing) his in the credits, Day designed at least 48 films in236

seven years [the author’s italic].’ See John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood: Fifty Years of ArtD i r e c t i o n . London: Thames Television’ s 1979, pp. 67-69; Ann Lloyd and Graham Fuller (Ed.), The Illustrated Who’sWho of the Cinema. New York: Portland House 1983 (2 Ed. 1987), p. 114; see also Grace Jeromski (Ed.) Internationalnd

D i ctionary of Films and Filmmakers-4: Writers and Production Artists. 3 Ed., Detroit: ST. James Press 1997, pp. 183-rd

185.

86

under the shadow of Cedric Gibbons.’ He refused to do the job and let Gibbonstake the credit. This situation led Day to abandon MGM after working there inthe 1920's. Richard Day was born in 1896 in Victoria, British Columbia/Canada.Like Gibbons’, his father was an architect who sharpened his talent and educatedhimself. Richard Day emigrated to the U. S. in 1918, and entered Hollywoodplanning sets for Erich Von Stroheim in the 1920's at MGM, Paramount andUnited Artists. He worked at Twentieth Century-Fox between 1939-43 and as afreelance Scenographer for various studios from 1943-70. During his fifty236

years of work in Hollywood, Day created spatial interpretations considered to beageless masterpieces. He was the Scenographer behind some of Hollywood’sdefinitive Art Deco pictures, and pioneered the sketching of the style at MGM,even t hough Gibbons’ name labeled Our Dancing Daughters (1928). Daybelonged to those leading artists who delivered ultimate spatial realism to thescreen. His highly realistic setting was manifested in the partial musical comedyPalmy Days (1931), and in the drama Dodsworth (1936), which affirmed Day’stalent with an Academy Award. In his artistic technique, he sketched in pastels,painted in oil and payed considerable attention to the period details in his sets.Like that of a western film, Day’s set had the same dramatic significance in hispictures, and was as persuasive a device as any another technician or artist on theset including the director could muster.

Richard Day was a unique artist in his juxtaposing of artistic discrepancies in thesame picture, but he addressed these with a highly convincing and visual quality.Richard Day delivered a very realistic view of less fortunate people, whencompared, with dramatic transition, to the life of the wealthy. Dead End (1937)revealed this skillful stylization. Still Richard Day had an attention-capturingability to include equilibrium between antic and Functional aesthetics, achievingorganic unity in a unique way. In Roman Scandals (1933), he provided smoothform, contrasted tonal values, and the clean lines of the Moderne (Illustrations37-38). All these aesthetical vocabularies were blended with the period style ofancient Rome. Day’s visualization reflected an effective artistic concept, andwell-balanced spatial composition. Day succeeded uniquely in applying thecontradiction principle between two extremes in his sets. He employed the spatial

A l l a n Abbott and Maurice Zuberano equally contributed to the formation of RKO’s scenographical style; see L.2 3 7

B a rs a c q , Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 202, 234&235; in addition toDarrell Silvera for dressing the set.

Astaire-Rogers’ nine screwball musicals started in: Flying Down to Rio (1933), The Gay Divorcee (1934), Roberta2 3 8

(1935), Top Hat (1935), Follow the Fleet (1936), Shall We Dance (1937), Carefree (1938), and The Story of Vernon andIr e n e C a s t l e (1 9 3 9 ). The duo made the tenth and their last musical together late in the next decade, The Barkleys ofBroadway (1949).

87

t o impressively serve his artistic conception of realism. In this regard, histeaming-up with the master realist Erich Von Stroheim during most of the 1920'slent Day his experience and sense of spatial authenticity. Hollywood’sextraordinary film Scenographer and the winner of seven Academy Awards forhis superior film scenography died in 1972 in Hollywood.

Gibbons’ relation with Day is comparable with Van Nest Polglase’s withCarroll Clark (Illustration 39), except the latter stayed longer at RKO. Clarkwas five years younger than Polglase. Both died in 1968. Clark started hisscenographic career at Pathe, and entered RKO in 1932 throughout 1938, and inthe last decade of his career he worked for Walt Disney’s productions. Clark237

essentially contributed to the most glamourous musical scenography that reachedthe screen during the Golden Age. Unfortunately, today we do not have muchrecord of these style-makers’ lives and work behind the screen. RKO’sscenography was a combination of Paramount’s sumptuous style, MGM’ssplendorous style, and the Moderne. The nine Astaire-Rogers musicals at RKOcarried true narrational aesthetic. The cycle’s spatial organization were the highp oint s of Thirties’ scenography and its enchanting glamour. RKO’s visualmetaphor invoked balance between the spatial organization and the screen story.During the 1930's, Art Deco, Streamlined Art Moderne and traditional or EarlyAmerican styles distinguished the studio’s image from the rest of Hollywood. Ahigh level of organic unity, vitality, spaciousness, and emphasis on the tonalcontrast of white and black mise-en-scene maintained RKO’s trademark on thescreen. Carroll Clark and his team introduced an exorbitant scenographicalstylization to their musicals, and it challenged Metro and Paramount’s modernspatial visualization. In adapting their own spatial concept in their productions,RKO’s Scenographers attracted the slogan ‘BWS’ to their studio- ‘Big WhiteSets’. 238

Clark and Polglase introduced essential aesthetic and narrative signs into theirspatial organization. A multi-functional aim and organic unity enabled their setsto be uniquely distinctive on the screen. When RKO’s scenographic department

See Arlene Croce, The Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers Book. New York: E. P. Dutton 1972, pp. 75&76.239

Ibid., p. 7.240

88

got hold of an idea, it was truthfully rendered down to the minutest of details, butwith an artistic exaggeration. In Top Hat (1935), the Venetian stylization of239

Venice’s Lido and the boudoir set are typical highlights of this scenographicinterpretation. The Lido of Venice’s stylization in Top Hat had something of arelationship with Robert Haas’ exterior setting of a canal in Venice, in A SocietyExile [19??]. Clark and Polglase borrowed the general lines of Haas’ compositionand altered the set to fit RKO’s exaggerated formula. In Top Hat the Lido settook two sound stages joined together to accommodate enough space for the vastset’s open spatial conception. RKO’s scenographical department went further inadding details and stylizations of modern life to the Lido set: smooth cleanstraight lines, and white walled architecture. The Scenographic Space projectedmulti-social activities onto a two-storey setting. On the first floor, on which “ThePiccolino” dance took place, there is a canal on the left side of the set, whichcould be crossed by two bridges of stylized Venetian architecture. Windows inthe background of the Lido were illuminated from within, which contributed tothe drama of the set, and defined the impressive depth of the spatial dimensions.A gondola carried Astaire-Rogers, in water that was colored black. It enhancedthe contrast between the black and white colors of the set, but most importantly,it stressed RKO’s aesthetical style and its trademark of BWS. The dining patiois impressively vast, adequate to entertain the “Cheek to Cheek” dance. TheLido’s dance floor is lower than that of the dining area, on which the entranceand exit of the Lido are located. It takes about ten wide-stair steps to reach thedance floor after entering the Lido. The dance floor is defined by abstract linest hat are separated by white colors from the Bakelite floor. Large Venetianlant erns are another means of defining the spatial depth of the set, whilemaint aining linear composition. In the background, an archaic sculpturecorresponds to the studios’ neoclassic stylization of the mid-Thirties. RKO’sopen spatial composition was typical of Hollywood’s adaptation and alterationof foreign cultures, and its employment of them to match the studios’ ownconcept and ideal. Top Hat’s Lido of Venice demonstrated a Venice made inHollywood (Illustration 40).

‘Astaire in the Thirties made do with formulas derived from nineteenth-centuryFrench farce.’ It happened for the first time that dance was presented as the240

Daniel Cohen, Musicals. New York: Bison Books 1984, p. 22. 241

Phillip J. Kaplan, The Best, Worst & Most Unusual: Hollywood Musicals. New York: Beekman House 1983, p. 11.242

J. P. Telotte, Dancing the Depression: Narrative Strategy in the Astaire-Rogers Films, in: Journal of Popular Film2 4 3

and Television, Vol. 8, No. 3 (Fall 1980), pp. 21, 23&24.

See ibid., p. 18.244

Van Nest Polglase: born in 1898 in Brooklyn, studied architecture and interior scenography, entered Hollywood in245

1 9 19 by Famous Players-Lasky, which emerged later as Paramount. Polglase went to Columbia Pictures after he left RKO;see Arlene Croce, The Astaire & Rogers Book. New York: E. P. Dutton 1972, p. 77; Polglase had to leave RKO in 1942,a ft er his economical mismanagement of Citizen Kane (1941), but most importantly because he was an alcoholic, he drankto the degree that prevented him from doing his job.

89

main dramatic expression of the action, not the songs. ‘Astaire danced with his241

entire body; the position of his hands was as important as that of his feet.’ Forthis reason he ‘insist that his entire body be visible’ during the cinematographictransformance. In their musical cycle, Astaire-Rogers’ dynamic dance was the242

focus of attention during the narrative action. Their dance drew the beholder’sattention to much of the spatial properties, since the camera had constantly tokeep following the dance.

Streamlined products, such as airplanes, ocean streamliners, or trains in Astaire-Rogers’ pictures, signified the realistic possibility of overcoming any physicalor emotional distance between the two. Their musicals invited that questionsconcerning the individual and society were not incomprehensible, and could besolved. Solutions might be found for our motivation for having interpersonalharmony, that could provide us with better vision regarding the world in whichwe are living. The Astaire-Rogers musical cycle balanced between the general243

forms of reality, therefore between those demonstrative and realistic cues. It wast heir method of expression to the beholder of the Depression times.Correspondingly ‘Astaire-Rogers films could never be adequately described asescapist.’244

Van Nes t Polglase’s contribution to Thirties film scenography is verycontroversial today. ‘Polglase read scripts, estimated budgets and handed outassignments.’ Today he is surrounded by a great deal of speculation regardinghis talent to have formed or contributed to any form of RKO’s scenographicals t y le, in particular to Astaire-Rogers musicals. Yet Polglase assisted Hans245

Dreier in The Magnificent Flirt (1928), which belongs to those highly acclaimedpictures of the early Art Deco period on the screen. After a year at Paramount,

See William K. Everson, A Pictorial History of the Western Film. 1969 (2 Ed., The Hollywood Western. New York:246 nd

A Citadel Press 1992), p. 21.

Ehtan Mordden, The Hollywood Studios: House Style in the Golden Age of the Movies. New York: Alfred A. Knopf247

1988, p. 77.

90

Polglase moved to MGM and stayed there for two years during the studio’s mostformative period of scenography. At Metro, Polglase joined Richard Day onUntamed (1929), where he was trained and sensed the elegance and glamour ofthe scenography when combined with the Moderne. It was a short experience,but would inspire Van Nest Polglase for the rest of his career. David O. Selznickhired him at RKO in 1932. More than Cedric Gibbons, Polglase abused hist eam’s talent and applied his own name to their work. His subordinates’positions did not allow them to express their dissatisfaction. Otherwise, theywould have had to leave during the critical times that followed the Depression.Despite all this, Polglase had the proficiency to lead one of Hollywood’s mosttalented film Scenographic teams of the Thirties. In fairness, he possessed thescenographic talent, but did not use it directly. Obviously, he realized afterhanding assignments to his department that he could do what he liked. Yet whenthe job was done, Polglase would be the first to talk and criticize. Still, under hissupervision, RKO produced memorable masterpieces of classic filmmaking,s t art ing with King Kong (1933), the Astaire-Rogers musicals, The Informer(1935), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939), to Citizen Kane (1941). It isevident t hat Polglase, like Gibbons, had a sense for talent, but also for topscenographic quality. He surrounded himself by highly qualified artists, whoplanned the sets while Polglase was elsewhere relying on their hard work andeffort. Yet at the end his name would label their talent as his own.

After the introduction of sound into filmmaking, another film genre startedriding high in Hollywood. It was the western film. Its outdoor beauty, effectivenarrative attributes, and simplicity drew audiences to the screen. Yet the wideacceptance of the western, attributes William K. Everson, is due to the genre’srealistic representation, since it ‘represents a way of life that has become a legendand perhaps a dream for some.’ Western film oscillated among the American246

studios. No one particular studio may claim its distinguished production of thewestern film over another.247

Emergence of the western film has been dated to the time of one-and two-reelers,and attained high fame in the early nineteen-twenties. By converting to sound,

Paul Rotha, The Film Till Now: A Survey of World Cinema. London: Jonathan Cape 1930 ( Vision Press 1949, 1960,248

and 4 Ed., Spring Books 1967), pp. 201&202.th

See Thomas W. Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion249

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 220.

91

western film obtained new narrative qualities. Its synchronized sound matchedwell its juxtaposition with the outdoor image. Sounded westerns belonged to thebest of Hollywood’s cycles. The genre inspired the outdoors’ realistic conditions-birds, winds, guns, dust mountains, desert and horses- to enhance its realisticquality. ‘It was something the Americans understood.’ Hollywood knew how toint roduce the cycle to the screen and it was a narrative form that caught thehearts of Americans. The arrival of sound affected the western film more248

severely than any other genre. Western film’s narrative relies mainly on thevisual, and during the transitional period moviegoers wanted to hear sound. Thiscreated a painstaking experience for Hollywood film-makers, since themicrophone imposed great limitations to the camera, as we have seen earlier.During the first two years that followed sound motion pictures, no significantpictures were produced in Hollywood. Paramount’s The Virginian (1929) used249

sound track for enhancing the picture’s dramatic quality, which was carried outthrough locomotive noises, saloon’s and cattle noise. Fox’s In Old Arizona(1929) claimed some artistic qualities, in being the first talking western dramashot on location. Raoul Walsh took his sound equipment on location so that hecould record realistic sound with a juxtaposition of outdoor beauty. It wassomething unheard of, but Walsh succeeded in capturing the landscape’s beautywith the dramatic sound effects of the outdoors. After American studios startedfeeling more comfortable in dealing with sound, Hollywood began producinglarger scale westerns. Fox’s The Big Trail (1930), Metro’s Billy the Kid (1930),and RKO’s Cimarron (1931) are typical productions of the early 1930's, withenhanced juxtapositions of image and sound.

Both western film, like the gangster film could be called Americana. They hadthe most in common. Their themes could be labeled as American tradition, andcontained images of social circumstances that related both to the times of the1870's and 1880's and to the era of the 1920's and 1930's, where “hardship andindividualism” were the predominant American ideals. Whether gangster orcowboy, both heros are gunmen and share a history of violence, but each of themdeals with a certain type of action that attracted and still holds attraction to the

C f. Stephen Louis Karpf, The Gangster Film: Emergence, Variation and a Decay of a Genre 1930-1940. Ph. D.2 5 0

Diss., Northwestern University 1970 (Rep. New York: Arno Press 1973), pp. 201&202.

See Margaret Farrand Thorp, America at the Movies. London: Faber and Faber 1946, p. 21.251

Martin Battersby, The Decorative Thirtieth. New York: Walker 1971, p. 199.252

92

screen. Furthermore, obvious narrative forms like that of the western or250

mystery pictures were preferred by rural and small-town audiences. They wouldlike to see the simple and conspicuous action present in these two genres, whichkept them chatting for days. Pure Americana or western film not only relates251

to small-town people, but to most Americans’ surroundings, since they had hadthat relationship to desert, horses, guns, or ranches in one form or another in theireveryday lives.

An elaborate degree of period-style precision was illustrated in Hollywood’swestern settings. They maintained a high level of realism in the western image.Yet Hollywood’s Scenographers took every opportunity shortcut to save moneyon furniture. ‘This furniture came from the studio store rooms and could be usedover and over again suitably re-covered in different materials to avoid beingrecognized -though there were a number of decorative pieces which inevitablybecame familiar to ardent filmgoers.’ Hollywood did not place the western on252

t he same level of the Moderne or classic and treated it accordingly. Everywestern picture in Hollywood was “another western,” and pseudo-style wassomething they got away with, since there is no big-hit production of the westerncycle that reached the screen until late in 1930's. Use and reuse of the fashion ofthe Scenographic Space’s mise-en-scene was mostly present in the quickie “B”western pictures of Columbia.

From an artistic and a narrative point-of-view, spatial organization in the westernfilm had the same dramatic significance as the cowboy does. It would be veryhard to fit a cowboy into any other surrounding than that of nature and its beauty.Based on this, the western genre relied profoundly on outdoor locations, and theirbeauty. This saved Hollywood studios from costly interior scenography, andallowed them to produce further low budget quickie westerns. Additionally,western film employed the same narrative formula on the silver screen during the1930's and 1940's. Its themes were almost the same, dealing with the wild west.Here the white man’s dominion and capability could overcome any difficulty inthe desert, and bring life to it, which was the motto of almost every productionduring the times of white and black segregated America.

93

With the exception of Cimarron (1931) and The Plainsman (1936), noexceptional and large-scale Westerns were produced in the decade until late inthe Thirties. Then several emerged at once: Paramount’s Union Pacific (1939),Warner Brothers’ Dodge City (1939), Twentieth Century-Fox’s Jesse James(1939), MGM’s Stand Up and Fight (1939), and John Ford’s Stagecoach (1939)at United Artists. The latter’s narrative structure and visualization came to bedifferent from all the previous productions combined, and surpassed itscontemporaries. Stagecoach contained fundamental artistic vocabularies thatwould be recycled in the next decade. Starting with its camera work, itmanifested the simplicity and beauty of the landscape of Monument Valley. Itwas captured persuasively in Bert Glennon and Ray Binger’s cinematography,with space extended to the horizon in the flat land of the desert and mountainsaround the Utah-Arizona borders. The picture’s contrasted white and black tonesrelate to the conditions of hardship and individualism. It carried John Ford’searly dramatic formula of tonal separations of The Iron Horse (1924). It was aconcept that celebrated the hard life, win or lose, of the nineteenth-century’s wildwes t . Stagecoach’s characters represented the diversity of 1855 society:Gat ewood, the town’s sanctimonious banker who pays lip-service torespectability while clutching a carpet bag filled with stolen money; Hatfield, agambler; pregnant officer’s wife Lucy Mallory, who is taking the stage to meether husband; a cavalry officer; Josiah Boone, the town’s alcoholic doctor andDallas , a woman of ill repute, who have both been banished from town andPeacock, a timed whiskey drummer. In the front of the stage sits Buck, thedriver, with Marshal Curley Wilcox, who is riding shotgun to protect the coachfrom hostile Indians and from the Plummer brothers, a vicious band of outlaws.Stagecoach’s rhythm was original, and was balanced between the Indian’s attackand the cavalry rescue. For economic reasons and a tight time schedule, most ofthe picture’s footage was produced at MGM’s lot using a rear projection process.But t he picture’s most memorable exterior scenes were shot on location inMonument Valley, for the first time in western history. The ‘crossing the river’scene was shot at Kern River near Kernville, while the Indian attack scene wasshot at Muroc Dry Lake near Victorville. John Ford made use of other locationssuch as Fremont Pass at Newhall, Chatsworth, and Calabasas in California. Otherlocations were used such as Kayenta and Mesa in Arizona. Alexander Toluboffand Wiard B. Ihnen were pioneers in their introduction of a low countryceilinged set in the western’s interior. This gained additional narrative qualitythrough contrasted lighting effect, underlining the simple western country lifepersuasively. Stagecoach elevated the western genre from its low-budget quickiestatus of “B” to “A,” and received an Academy Award Nomination in the Best

Kalton C. Lahue, Riders of the Range: The Sagebrush Heroes of the Sound Screen. South Brunswick and New York:253

A. S. Barnes 1973, (Preface).

94

Picture category. Stagecoach was looked upon as a pictorial measure for futurepictures of the genre, and lent the western genre a respectful reputation in the1940's. Later productions of the western could not escape the influence ofStagecoach, and the use of Monument Valley came to be a ritual AmericanMyth. It obtained its narrative place as did any other stereotype character in thegenre, and lent to the western a highly regarded scenographical stylization.

Within a limited time frame, the talking western formula was worn out. It hademployed the same aesthetic signs, repeatedly, in the manner of an assembly linemethod. Hollywood was obsessed in using and reusing the same formula of the253

western genre. These westerns were committed to dealing with subjects ofconquering the wild west, bringing life and order to the desert and dealing withAmerican history. All these formulas propounded the idea that the white manwas in command. After the world war II, the western cycle shifted to an assemblyline manner. Hollywood produced sweeping numbers of pictures about thecowboy’s venture and success, always shuffling the same aesthetic signs aroundwithin the frame of the wild west. Despite this factory-like film production, somefilm-makers like John Ford excelled in making other versions of Stagecoach inthis period. Ford’s classic My Darling Clementine (1946) preserved a level ofequilibrium between the visual stylization of the picture and the nostalgia of thepast. It was followed by Ford’s Fort Apache (1948), and Wagon Master (1950).T he lat t er employed Ford’s typical formula, in that it dealt with the latenineteenth-century historical adventure of a Mormon Wagon train traveling tothe west, to Utah in 1879. Rio Grande (1951) introduced Ford’s formula withmore sets, songs, an 1880's Mexican border and plundering Indians. Other film-makers could not escape Ford’s formula, but they borrowed the same dramaticand historical frame. Raoul Walsh’s Technicolor and standard westernSaskatchewan (1954), included an Indian attack sustained through a Mountie’sact ion to rescue a woman. Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo (1958) relied onconfrontations, where a drunken sheriff and cowboy hold a little town againstoutlaws. It was this redundancy that marked the decline of the western film inHollywood.

3 Wilfred Buckland

4 Joseph Urban

2 The Kiss (1929). Scenography: Richard Day, Cedric Gibbons.Cinematography: William Daniels.

5 The “Dining Room” in Enchantment (1921). Scenography: Josephy Urban. Cinematography:Ira H. Morgan.

6 Anton Grot 7 Warner Brothers-First National Studio’s sceno-graphical department c. 1933 in Hollywood.

8 One of AntonGrot’s sketches forThe Private Lives ofElizabeth and Essex( 1 9 3 9 ) .Scenography: AntonG r o t .Cinematography:Sol Polito and W.Howard Greene.

9 The same scene ofThe Private Lives ofElizabeth and Essexshows how its visu-alization was basedon Grot’s sketchingand angle.

10 Another example of Anton Grot’s pre-editing principle inMildred Pierce (1945). Scenography: Anton Grot.Cinematography: Ernest Haller.

12 Anton Grot’s illustrative backdground is clearly visiblein these frames of Mildred Pierce. His detailed sketchesadded high levels of dramtic values to the pictures he wasworking on.

11 How the same scene was realized by Michael Curtiz andhis cameran.

13 The copying of the previous frame by Michael Curtize inMildred Pierce.

14 William Cameron Menzies (left) with LyleWheeler surrounded by some sketches for GoneWith the Wind (1939).

21 Actual frame composition shot after Menzies’ pre-viualizing concept in GoneWith the Wind.

15 through 20 are filmic pre-layouts by William Cameron Menzies for GoneWith the Wind. Scnenography: William Cameron Menzies, Lyle Wheeler (insupervisory position), Edward G. Boyle, Joseph B. Platt, Howard B. Bristol andHenry J. Stahl. Cinematography: Ernest Haller, Lee Garmes (supervisors),Arthur Arling, Vincent Farrar, Jack Cosgrove, Lee Zavitz, Ray Rennahan,Wilfred M. Cline and Karl Struss.

22 through 26 are Menzies’sketches for G

one With the W

ind.

27 through 30 are also Menzies’sketches for G

one With the W

ind.

31 Atlanta in Flam

es was shot after M

enzies’visual concept. Gone W

ith the Wind (1939).

32 Charles D. Hall

33 Hans Dreier witha set model of Angel(1937). Scenography:Hans Dreier andRobert Usher.C i n e m a t o g r a p h y :Charles Lang Jr.,Farciot Edouart,Lloyd Knechtel andHarry Perry.

34 Cedric Gibbons; and 35 is on the fol-lowing page.

36 Richard Day

35 Our Modern Maidens (1929). Scenography: Cedric Gibbons and Merrill Pye.Cinematography: Oliver Marsh.

37-38Rom

an Scandals(1933), sketch and scene. Scenography:R

ichard Day. C

inematography:G

regg Toland, Ray June, assisted by

John W. B

oyle, Malcolm

MacPherson, W

illiam Thom

pson and Ralph C

olgrove.

39 Carroll C

lark (front) on the stairs with Van N

est Polglase (rear) on one set from Flying

Dow

n to Rio(1933). Scenography: C

arroll Clark, Van N

est Polglase. Cinem

atography:J. Roy

Hunt and A

l Wetzel assisted by C

harles Stiner, Vern Walker, Lucien A

ndriot and Dick D

evall.

40 Lido of Venice in Top Hat(1935). Scenography C

arroll Clark, Van N

est Polglase, Thomas

Little. Cinem

atography: David A

bel and Vernon Walker.

Ma y a D e re n , A n Anagram of Ideas on Art, Form and Film, in: George Amberg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected1

Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972, pp. 17&26.

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Norm and Form: Studies in the Art of the Renaissance. London and New York: Phaidon 19662

(2 Ed. 1971), p. 7.nd

3 Status of the Scenographic Space in Classical Photoplay

When the aesthetic signs of an artistic product which is mostly of the plasticform (form, composition, lines, perspective, color, et al.) suggest a convincingdegree of naturalism, it is because the artist inspires them from real life. Thisparticular form of art provides great nobility. For Maya Deren ‘the distinction ofart is that it is neither simply an expression, of pain, for example, nor animpression of pain but is itself a form which creates pain (or whatever itsemotional intent)-might seem to point to a classicism.’ The Great Depression’s1

grief was manifested in various film genres of the Thirties. In Dead End (1937),the claim for realism reached its apogee in Richard Day’s manifestation of thediscrepancy between two extremes on the screen - poor and rich. The picture’sscenographic stylization highlighted the nobility of the filmic art form and itsmission. Day recreated a New York street on Goldwyn’s lot in Hollywood. DeadEnd’s sets recreated the real life conditions of New York to a captivating degree. Samuel Goldwyn complained to the director William Wyler regarding theexcessive degree of reality being projected in the settings by Richard Day. Forthe perfectionist Goldwyn they were too poor and dirty an outlook (Illustration96). The picture’s spatial forms, composition, lines, tonal values, and perspectiveunderlined the huge gap between the rich and the poor. The result suggested thatt he East Side tenements of New York gradually gave way to the exclusivedwellings of the rich, and highlighted the poor living next to opulent apartmentsthey could never afford. The picture was nominated for four Academy Awards,one of them for Richard Day’s scenography and another for Best Picture.

Hans Ernst Gombrich observed a certain similarity comparable to a scientist’sdiscovery in the artist’s work. Artists, like scientists, not only produce self-satisfaction for themselves, but their outputs offer clarification when answeringsome questions. John Arnold, the president of the American Society of2

Cinematographers (ASC), seemed to agree with Gombrich’s thesis. Arnold seesthe nature of the motion picture cinematographers’ trade as a unique one. ForArnold, the cinematographic job requires commanding skills of both the artist

John Arnold, Art, in: A. C., Vol. 12, No. 2 (April 1932), p. 25.3

Edward Carrick, Art and Design in the British Film. London: Dobson 1948, p. 48.4

D avid Joel, The Adventure of British Furniture. 1953 (2 Ed., Furniture Design Set Free: The British Furniture5 nd

Revolution from 1851 to the Present Day. London: J. M. Dent 1969), p. 30.

D . B ordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to6

1960, p. 50.

See Joseph Urban, Real Screen Drama Greatest Need, Declares Joseph Urban [undated paper from Columbia7

University: Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection.]

96

and the scientist. To put the artist’s mission into the film Scenographer’s own3

words: ‘I [Edward Carrick] believe that the film in the hands of the artist couldbe the greatest medium of expression of all time.’ Based on the conventional4

artistic and scientific formula, this confirmation is persuasively truthful, since thefilm Scenographer and cinematographer are the artists who translate words intoexpressive images, according to the beholder’s feelings and interests.

Popularity of the motion pictures and its spatial organization during the 1930'sreached everyone’s life. The Modern Movement of film scenography rose to acaptivating level in influencing people’s choice of household furnishings. Not5

only in the formation the Moderne, but in the classical arena, Hollywood’s imageachieved the same perceptual efficiency to its beholder. Hollywood employed thespatial to serve among the prime narrative catalysts, and it was persuasivelyeffective, as the spatial and compositional image were an homage toconventional art. The Post-Renaissance and Impressionist periods were taken bysome film-makers as a source of inspiration to enhance their filmic image on thescreen. Directors like Cecil B. DeMille inspired part of his image’s aestheticfrom Reubens, Dore, Van Dyck, or Corot. Cinematographers such as RobertSurt ees chose the Impressionist look; whereas Leon Shamroy preferred VanGogh and some others paralleled Rembrandt in their compositions. 6

Some artists, like Joseph Urban, admitted sharing some stage spatial codes withthe screen. Despite this affinity, screen art preserved its own independent formand attributes. When defining the motion picture medium, Irving Thalberg7

described this art form as ‘the art of arts.’ It exceeded all other forms of art interms of fascinating the masses. Any film story, for Thalberg, could attain somedegree of narrative efficiency, provided that the story was sustained by promising

Irving Thalberg, The Modern Photoplay. Lecture[d] at the University of Southern California (March 20, 1929), in: John8

C . Ti b betts (Ed.), Introduction to the Photoplay. Shawnee Mission, Kansas, National Film Society 1977, pp. 116&121.

See Stephen Heath, Narrative Space, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Autumn 1976), pp. 73&74; during his analysis on the9

‘N a rrative Space,’ Heath did not pay any considerable attention to the film scenographical contribution to film style. Thisis another neglected area in film criticism of film scenographic stylization.

Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillian 1953, p.10

47.

Ibid., p. 48.11

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pictorial beauty and surroundings. If a true form of aesthetic visualization can8

enhance the pictorial communication, then a realistic representation of the visibleworld depends on the cinematographic transformance; and the latter’s efficiencyhangs essentially in the balance of its pictorial arrangement. Because in thiscorrelation, the pictorial synthesization defines the analytical magnitude of thefilmic images. 9

Any artistic innovation’s measure of quality, including that of the motion picture,is based on to which extent the artistic product could impress itself upon thepsychological state of its beholder. The method employed in sending the messageto the beholder merely consists of the artist’s own technique in achieving thataim. In the motion picture’s artistic output, certain aesthetic signs are unitedtogether, and subsequently can sustain the narrative efficiency of this medium.These signs consist of the story, its dramatic action and stylization, the setting,composition and lighting quality of every single scene. These aesthetic signs10

integrate smoothly with one another in practically any highly-praised picture.Each one corresponds to its neighbor, and none of these aesthetic signs can beeffective without counting on the other. The organic unity of these aesthetic signsand t heir data maintains the competency of their narrative. This unificationshould be represented within a frame of reality. The beholder should share thefeeling and experience of the screen story with the characters on the screen.11

Closely focusing on conventional film practice reveals that ‘the system forconstructing space (the ‘continuity style’) has as its aim the subordination ofspatial (and temporal) structures to the logic of the narrative, especially to thecause/effect chain.’ So, negatively, the spatial was subordinate to the action forsustaining the story, reflected Thompson and Bordwell. But positively, the spacewas treated as narrative cause for its scenographic stylization, while it provided

C f. K ri s t i n Thompson and David Bordwell, Space and Narrative in the Films of Ozu, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 21 2

(Summer 1976), pp. 42.

Ibid., pp. 42&43.13

Ibid., pp. 43&55.14

Jane Holtzkay, When Hollywood Was Golden, the Movie Sets were, Too, in: The New York Times (January 11, 1990).15

S e e Robert Edmond Jones, Drawings for the Theatre. New York: Theatre Arts 1925 (2 Ed. Theatre Books 1970),1 6 nd

p p . 1 3 &14; Jones was the Scenographer who pioneered sketching the spatial concept for the first color film Becky Sharp(1935).

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narrative quality. Hollywood treated the space with respect to the scene’s focus12

of attention, but also in relation to the 180- and 30-degree rules of spatialrepresentation. The spatial attributes manifested the external cause of thedramatic action, and finally Hollywood persuasively preserved a general degreeof consistency in the spatial organization. With these spatial canons emerged13

a closed space, which was always subordinate to the narrative action.‘Hollywood’s creation of an imaginary axis of action in each scene places thecamera within a semi-circular area; often the camera never does move to theother semi-circle.’ This reduced the vantage point of the beholder to seeing asmuch as the camera allows to be seen of the filmic space. It made for leavingsome portions of the setting out of the beholder’s field of vision. 14

Hollywood film scenographic stylization in its Golden Age deserved to be treatedas a true art form, as by then sets contributed to the film’s popularity just as muchas it s co-stars. High attendance of the neighborhood movie houses includedarchitects as well as every class of the American society. They went to see thelatest spatial dreams of the Hollywood scenographic departments. Hollywood’sScenographer of the 1920's and 1930's elevated film scenography to a level ofbeing synonymous with the Moderne. Some cycles of the decade are hard toimagine without their modern scenographic stylization (Astaire-Rogersmusicals). This spatial balance, in terms of Art Deco, Streamlined Art Moderne,with some attributes of the International style and the Bauhaus, was evident onthe classic screen. 15

‘A setting is not just a beautiful thing, a collection of beautiful things,’ as the setwas envisioned by America’s celebrated stage and film Scenographer RobertEdmond Jones. ‘It echoes, it enhances, it animates. It is an expectancy, aforeboding, a tension. It says nothing, but it gives everything.’ Still, a spatial16

William Cameron Menzies, Pictorial Beauty in the Photoplay, in: Richard Koszarski (Ed.), Hollywood Directors 1914-1 7

1 9 4 0 . N e w Y o rk: Oxford University Press 1976, pp. 242&243; the subject was originally lectured by Menzies, at theU n i v e rsity of Southern California, at April 10, 1929; it began in the silent film period, where William Cameron Menziesw a s regarded by notable film artists, such as Natacha Rambova, as being among Hollywood’s ‘cleverest dramatic architecti n t h e b u s i n e s s.’ see Michael Morris, Madam Valentino: The Many Lives of Natacha Rambova. New York: AbbevillePress 1991, p. 159.

‘The visual,’ expressed Alfred Hitchcock ‘is a vital element in this work. I [Hitchcock] don’t think it is studied1 8

e n o u gh.’ Quoted in: Eric Sherman, Directing the Film: Film Directors on their Art. Boston: Little, Brown 1976, p. 202.

Jerome Lachenbruch, The Photoplay Architect, in: The American Architect, Vol. 120, No. 2377 (September 28, 1921),19

p. 219.

G e nnady Myasnikov, Director’s View of the Film, in: Sergei Mikhailovich Eisenstein (Ed.), Drawings. Moskva:2 0

Iskusstvo 1961, p. 164.

Jan & Cora Gordon, Star-Dust in Hollywood. London: George G. Harrap 1930, p. 179.21

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setting contains further artistic and technical means. ‘The set of today [April 10,1929]’ stated William Cameron Menzies, ‘is neither a purely architectural nor ap urely artistic product. It is an ingenious combination of art, architecture,dramatic knowledge, engineering, and craftsmanship.’ Out of this film17

scenographic externalization emerges the picture’s visual metaphor. It providesthe spatial and temporal frame to the character’s surroundings. Vincente Minnellidefined the scene’s visualization as being profoundly significant. 18

Balancing between the film scenographic organization and the characters’dramatic mood within is among the Scenographer’s most complicated challenges.A setting is the conclusion of an exhaustive process of planning and research.19

This means that the film Scenographer is required to have the ability to foreseethe picture as a whole before it is exhibited on the screen. To do so meant ‘firstof all, to draw a vital, mental picture of the entire complex imagery of the futurefilm on the screen, of the future work of synthetic film art.’ An early 1930's20

film critic suggested: the film Scenographer is an artist who translates the scriptinto three-dimensional and visual experience. The pre-envisioning conception21

of pictorial discourse in the motion picture was notably present in the work ofWilliam Cameron Menzies, Charles D. Hall, and Anton Grot’s scenographicconceptualization. Grot’s pre-layouted studies, for instance, revealed adescriptive and meaningful scenographic balance between the character’s spiritof t he crime world, and depression America. He truthfully rendered a three-dimensional pictorial representation of his pictures’ drama. Grot studied everyasp ect of lighting effects in his settings, and blended this with a painstaking

Mary Eunice McCarthy, Hands of Hollywood. Hollywood: Photoplay Research Bureau 1929, p. 96; after the end of2 2

t h e s t u d i o system era, and by the late 1940's, job insecurity had been a critical threat to most Hollywood’s employees,b e c a u s e o f the studios’ short term employment policy (one week, or even one day jobs). Consequently some filmS c e n o g ra p h e rs together with some cinematographers and their staff, among others, found themselves with no future jobs e c u ri t y ; see Anthony A. P. Dawson, Hollywood’s Labor Troubles, in: Industrial and Labor Relations Review, Vol. 1,No.4 (July 1948), pp. 638-647; at the same time as a carpenter and a painter were making $ 2.25 per hour in Hollywood,t h e s a me job was performed for $ 1.65 per hour somewhere else; More Trouble in Paradise, in: Fortune, Vol. 34, No. 5(November 1946), p. 154.

Motion Picture Producers Recognize Efforts of Architects in the Productions, in: The American Architect, Vol. 117, 2 3

No. 2302 (February 4, 1920), p. 157.

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attention to the period’s details. Like Menzies, Grot had a remarkable ability toconquer the spatial in order to serve his Scenographic Space’s composition. Bothartists possessed attention-capturing skills in their perspectival technique (as wewill see later). This talent contributed to the formation of the most strikingcompositional images on the American screen.

With the opening of the dialogue period, some film Scenographers’ techniqueshad to undergo some changes. Settings’ dimensions of the silent era were largerand they were produced in greater numbers compared with those of the talkingpictures. Settings for the talkies required certain specifications that demanded anincrease in cost, and this in turn caused a notable reduction in the numbers of setsconstructed for the talkies. ‘There are about one/third of the number of sets usedin sound pictures as were used in silent pictures, reducing the number ofcarpenters, painters and laborers employed in their construction.’ The Materialutilized in building the set had to be changed from resemblance, to more realistic.Material reverberation had to be unfeigned when it was used by the characters(e.g., authentic glass, metal, or wood). By the early 1920's, film producers22

started recognizing the dramatic value of film scenography. They realized thatintroducing well-arranged sets might enhance their picture’s artistic quality andits revenue at the box-office. William Randolph Hearst was one of these movie23

producers, who called on Joseph Urban to lead his scenographic department atCosmopolitan Productions Studios’ in New York. Hearst produced among othersEnchantment (1921), The Young Diana (1922), and Snowblind (1924), whichobtained considerable attention by the critics for their modern and well plannedspatial organization.

Another dramatic level of film scenography is creating a model to provide furthert echnical details that will enhance the dramatic quality of the scene. FilmScenographers used set models as an aid for pre-establishing balance between the

S ee Herman Blumenthal, Cardboard Counterpart of the Motion Picture Setting, in: Production Design, Vol. 2, No. 12 4

(January 1952), pp. 16-21.

John Harkrider, Set Design from Script to Stage, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 29, No. 4 (October 1937), p. 359; see also Leo25

K . K u t e r , A rt Direction, in: Films in Review (June-July 1957), pp. 248-258; to have a comparative vision between themo v i n g p i c t u re rs’ and the stage’s spatial organization in its practical execution, the reader is invited to see the stage’ss e t t i n g processes in its basic steps in; Andre Smith, The Scenewright: The Making of Stage Models and Settings. NewYork: The MacMillan 1926.

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mood of the setting’s aesthetic vocabulary and the dramatic action. Prior to theact ual set construction, set models represented the core of the pictorial anddramatic significance. It was another means of saving time and money,specifically when dealing with vast settings. A set model is an aid to eliminateunnecessary parts of the set, even if the script calls for them, as they will not bevisible in a shot composition. A set model is a great aid to the cinematographer,director and producer, helping them to determine their needs in advance.24

Art is t ic, economic, and technical predeterminations of the film scenographicrequirements are arranged when the producer, director, Scenographer,cinematographer, electrician (gaffer), and those in charge of the filmscenographic visualization confer together, while they try to feature smoothint egration between the set and its action. After both director andcinematographer conclude their artistic and economic estimates and finally seethe completed model of the set, they plan their action and camera angles, whilethe gaffer suggests answers for certain lighting questions. The same is true forthe set dresser and costume maker. All these artists collaborate together topreserve balance between the setting’s visualization and the story that unfoldswithin.25

3.1 Canvas Art and Film Scenography’s Pictorial Application

In its textural treatment, film scenographic composition relies primarily on theeffect of shade. ‘Shadows’ seemed to Leonardo Da Vinci as having ‘supremeimportance in perspective,’ while their effect separates various planes from eachother, in accordance with their spatial relationship. In the absence of shadow, thedistinction between the objects’ various characteristics ‘will be ill defined;’except when placing the object in the front of a different color background thanthat of the object. Shade has a more effective dramatic effect than light, because

C f . J e a n Paul Richter (Ed.), The Literary Works of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol. 1, London: Sampson Low, Marston,2 6

Searle & Rivington 1883 (2 Ed., The Notebook of Leonardo Da Vinci. New York: Dover Publications 1970), pp. 69&73.nd

Ibid., p. 89.27

See Rudolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles:2 8

University of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974), p. 318.nd

C f. Joseph Urban, Real Screen Drama Greatest Need, Declares Joseph Urban [undated papers from Columbia2 9

University: Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection.]

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it is always present somewhere around the object, lending the object its form.26

Neither light nor shadow alone can reveal the contoural outline or form of anobject, ‘but in the portions between the light and shadows they are highlyconspicuous.’ Solid form with its shade serves as one solid body, and this27

involves the canons of the spatial organization. Shade has the ability to establishdefinite space, and this arises as the shadow demarcates the dissimilarity betweenthe vertical and horizontal properties of the subject. Additionally, shade createsspace in ‘contributing to the size gradients of the convergent perspective.’28

At least one color contributes to the tone of a shadow, because shade is not onlymade up of shadow. Darkness is the conclusion of a certain color’s tone. Forsome artists, such as Joseph Urban, tonal treatment of a scene coincides with acolored surface and its illumination. By blending color with shade, and the shapeand dynamic of the scene, the latter will come vividly to life. A solid body’sshape in a scene has to be arranged in a way that will reveal its characteristicsand gradations properly, so that when it is exposed to light, it will obtain itsthree-dimensionality and will be visually effective in the scene. This happenswhen color and light are blended, creating sufficient dramatic effect in thoseobjects’ attributes, for the beholder’s attention to be drawn to them. The Film29

Scenographic Cryptogram and its stylization in Frankenstein (1931) matched thep ict ure’s rhythm of dread and horror. Arthur Edeson’s cinematography wascomplimented convincingly with Charles D. Hall and Herman Rosse’s spatialarrangement (Illustrations 41-42). According to the canons of illumination, thepicture’s shade was present in the absence of the light. This in turn invoked amood of gloominess, which commanded a ghoulish image throughout the picture.Hall-Rosse’s externalization of the walls of the mad scientist’s laboratory -wherethe monster (Boris Karloff) is expected to be brought to life- were constructedus ing a large-stone texture. Under the harsh lighting effect, the rough stones’vertical and horizontal lines confidently suggested the coming of the unknown.

Ranald MacDougall, Sound - and Fury, in: The Screen Writer, Vol. 1 (September 1945), p. 1.30

See Michelangelo Antonioni, Two Statements, in: Harry M. Geduld (Ed.), Film Makers on Film Making. Bloomington31

& London: Indiana University Press 1967, pp. 221&222.

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Beams of shadows were asserting their additional space on every surface of theScenographic Space. Like the walls’ textural treatment, the organic unitycontinued evocatively to extend onto the laboratory’s floor to match that samelarge stone’s touch. Every form and shade in the laboratory matched themonster’s handicapped movement, and invoked the mysterious spirit of the newcreature that was compiled from corpses by Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive),and had the desire to kill. Every external and internal aesthetic sign in the picturehad a strong resonance with the Germanic Expressionist school.

Defeating the filmic image’s two-dimensionality motivated film-makers to strivealways for implementing variable aesthetic measures and techniques in order tomaintain a three-dimensional image on the screen. Techniques such as movingcamera, lighting effects, lenses and camera angles were employed to maintain athree-dimensional image and serve a high narrative quality on the screen. By30

giving the screen image a form of roundness, it achieved a high artistic andnarrative level. Correspondingly, all of the aesthetic signs being treated in thisinvestigation are fundamental constituents of the motion picture image’snarrative causality. But most of these are attributes contributing to the image’sthree-dimensional visualization.

F ilm scenography is able to imbue the narrative action with more than justcolors. It enables the film-maker to establish a dramatic relationship between thecolors and drama of the scene. Michelangelo Antonioni, in this regard, treatedhis screen image as a painter treats a canvas, and he would not limit his image tothe realistic colors available in nature. This in turn afforded the film scenographya vital dramatic importance, maintained Antonioni, while it permitted exceptionalartistic control over the color’s composition in the scene. As film scenographyis consequential in an interior scene, so it has the same dramatic value in anoutdoor one, since the latter needs some transformation to match the dramaticmood of the action. Earlier in the silent film period, artists appreciated the31

p arallelism between the canvas art and the motion picture’s image. OscarFishinger and Hans Richter were among those artists who were attracted to thenew filmic art, and put their talents into the film to originate so-called “animatedpaintings.” It came in the form of ‘time dimension-rhythm, spatial depth created

It took the pioneer Hans Richter a short period of time to discontinue animated painting. ‘All his later films, along with32

t h e f i l ms of Leger, Man Ray, Dali, and the painters who participated in Richter’s later films (Ernst, Duchamp, etc.)indicate a profound appreciation of the distinction between the plastic and the photographic image, and make enthusiastica n d creative use of photographic reality.’ See Maya Deren, Cinematography: The Creative Use of Reality, in: GeorgeA mb e rg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972, pp. 155, fn*&156.

Cf. Herbert Read, Toward a Film Aesthetic, in: George Amberg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected Essays. New York:3 3

A rn o Press & The New York Times 1972, p. 200; see also William Cameron Menzies, Pictorial Beauty in the Photoplay,in: Richard Koszarski (Ed.), Hollywood Directors 1914-1940. New York: Oxford University Press 1976, p. 239.

S e e J ulian Hochberg, Art and Perception, in: Edward c. Caterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of3 4

perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 230.

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by a diminishing square, the three-dimensional illusion created by the revolutionsof a spiral figure, etc.’ Silent film’s first attraction to talented artists iscomparable to the coming of sound film, when it mobilized new artists, standardsand technologies to explore the new medium. Talking film went through somecommercial interruption however, while “animated painting” was granted somedegree of success. This was due to its inspiration from the classic art andtechnique repertoire. It was limited in circulations of 16mm film shorts, and wasattended by certain societies and groups of intellectuals.32

Some conditions pertained to the differentiation between the canvas’ and themotion picture’s art. The film medium is constituted objectively, whilst canvasart is created subjectively. It is not like the conventional art form that is the resultof an individual artist’s immediate and autonomous way of thinking. Film art ist he result of collaborative aesthetic signs combined from various stages ofproduction. This includes significantly the moving picture’s dependence on themechanical and scientific attributes, which contributes to the constituting of thescreen’s image. Filmic art is an analysis, while canvas painting is synthesis.Pictorial art is combined in the artist’s mind from separate components, that havean immediate relationship with the artist’s own experience. Even if film-makersundertake using some of their own experience, they still have to attain theanalytical formula to produce a scene. A painter has the ability to reproduce the33

reality of the visible world by utilizing the perspectival technique of pictorial artin the canvas image. A closer look at such an image will show that the depth cueof the pictorial art is composed by the artist’s spatial manipulation of positioningand counter- positioning of the picture’s attributes, in their various plans, tocreate the impression of depth. Lending the illusion of depth to the screen is an34

impressive and complicated matter that relates closely to the artistic level andmanipulation of the spatial properties so as to secure such cues of depth, e.g.,

Cf. Vladimir Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art. Tr. by Stephen Garry, New York: Hill and Wang 1959, p. 167;3 5

N o t a b l y , Vladimir Nilsen’s analyzes were considerably informative on the aesthetical treatment of the camera and thepictorial composition on the screen.

See ibid., p. 173.36

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forced, painted perspective, or linear composition, or by using various lightingtechniques. This would rely on what the technological improvements have tooffer in terms of advanced cameras, lenses and other cinematographic strategiesthat would deliver a narrative image to the screen. Still, the motion pictures’ artform elaborately excelled where conventional art failed, as the moving pictureliberat ed the art from the aristocratic and bourgeois saloons where it waspresented to serve a limited class of society prior to this century. This new artform of the twentieth-century is accessible to any individual, so as to providewhat might be considered appropriate for the advance of every one’s way of life.

A motion picture’s ‘shot is only an element, a single unit of an artisticproduction.’ When various shots are combined they will form the body of thefilm, and in this respect a solitary shot is not qualified to provide the beholderwit h a comp rehensive idea about the entire body of the picture, ‘it onlyreproduces various of its phenomena in isolation.’ Pictorial art signifies a self-containment and has all its necessary artistic components, which translate howit was perceived by its producer. By contrast to the motion picture’s dynamism,a painting ‘remains a spatial art, void of all temporal qualities. ...[and] cannotdirectly convey movement, nor, consequently, action.’ If it does, it illustrates,only, a connotation of mobility. Canvas’ representational techniques (e.g., light,shade, perspective, form and composition, et al.) can only point toward themeans of dynamic but cannot produce the dynamic itself. Both motion pictures35

and canvas art still have a close relationship to one another, in which thep rinciples of the painter must be regarded as obligatory knowledge by thecinematographer while forming a qualitative screen image. An unplanned imageor one imitating canvas art cannot have any exceptional artistic quality.Artistically it is not efficient in reproducing someone else’s achievement. Sucha process will convert the film into a “substitute for representational arts.” Thismeans that critical handling combined with skillful pictorial experience rests inthe heart of forming respective screen art. 36

When artists translate the material world onto their pristine canvas in successivebrush-strokes, they accumulate this from various forms of visual data about the

See Claude Bailble, Programing the Look: A New Approach to Teaching film Technique, in: Screen Education, Vol.3 7

3 2 , N o . 3 3 (A utumn/Winter 1979/80), p.108; Bailble’s account reflected exhaustive examination on ‘science of opticsand Lacanian psychoanalysis.’

Ibid., p. 10938

C a lvin Pryluck, The Aesthetic Relevance of the Organization of Film Production, in: Cinema Journal, Vol. 15, No.3 9

2 (Spring 1976), p. 3.

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object’s perspectival outlook. This occurs when painters evaluate thevisualization of these bodies from numerous positions. These are captured atsome exceedingly shallow angles. A canvas image is presented to the beholderto perceive it from the exact same angle at which it was captured by the painter’seye. Correspondingly, film-makers define their framed spatial as being a ready37

image. It is presented on the screen without any effort from the beholder tosearch for it. Pictorial representation exercises techniques which overcome ‘whatit has suppressed. The picture or the image on the screen is completely stable, sothe cortical adjustment typical of vision in reality is rendered unnecessary-representation is superimposed over presentation.’ By suggesting a vanishingpoint with retrogressive linear composition, both pictorial and screen art masktheir possession of two-dimensionality, and obtain depth cue and reassurance.Yet at certain points the two art forms differ, because the canvas artist has thechoice of placing the vanishing point in, or off-center, or out of the image. Filmicimage preserves its objectivity only in pointing the lens in the center of theimage.38

Over an extended course of time conventional art (writing and painting) wasdeveloped under other organizational traditions, which were different, from thoseunder which the film was refined. Traditional art’s entity did not need muchtechnological accommodation in order to proceed. Art historians observe that thetechnical impact on classical art was restricted entirely by the product of theartist. The motion picture’s refinement, and sometimes decline, was continuouslydependent on alternated and multifarious constitutional patterns, i.e., the abilityof the film medium to create meaningful art had a far-reaching relationship witht echnological breakthroughs. The latter’s impact upon pictorial art was bycomparison stable, but it was not as great as that on film. The artistic scope of39

the motion picture’s production involves artists at many levels, and whetherpainter or Scenographer, both artists have an immense margin of feasibility attheir disposal when they answer in the terms of the film medium, because the

Joseph Urban, quoted in: Julian Johnson, Marietta Serves Coffee, in: Photoplay (October 1920), p. 33.40

The adaption of both technologies into the film will be treated in further details, later in this study (Chapter 4). 41

Cf. Rudolf Arnheim, Film as Art. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1957, pp. 66&155.42

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new art form of photoplay may be the finest art of our times. 40

After the arrival of the talkies in late 1920's, film relied profoundly on the newmedium (sound)in order to advance. It in turn, this caused Hollywood filmp ractice to shift toward a new narrative accommodation in the sound film.Paradoxically, the early talkies of the post-synchronization era, as we have seenin t he previous Chapter, were developed in a cacophonous, if not narrative,visual manner, such as film musical, voiced comedy, and the western genre.Meanwhile Hollywood maintained the old scenographic tradition of the “cannedset,” under the restrictions of the new technology during this transition period.Like in sound, the introduction of the wide-screen into the moving picturepresented further limitations to film scenographic composition. This demandedbot h the Scenographer and cinematographer to re-evaluate their conventionalapproach to serve a new composition of the screen’s image.41

Color film did not obtain its convincing realism until the late years of theTwentieth century, but it still has room for improvement. Early color pictureswere short in having this privilege of imaging that is close to the real; color filmcaptures its pigments pre-mixed from nature, and at their best the resulting colorson the screen are naturalistic. Pre-blended color’s lack of naturalness would notpermit film-makers to produce highly promising color images on the film matrix.On gray scale film the natural world is abbreviated to shades of gray. Thisabbreviation dramatically represents the natural world, through the medium ofan indep endent art, i.e., in tones of gray, light, and shadow. Grisaillerepresentation by the camera is merely according to the light and shade valuesof the virtual, and this tonal recording has reached the level of being respectedas a true art form. Canvas art’s colors are prepared by the painter’s own choice,and pictorial art’s technical vocabularies are distributed on the pristine canvas bythe same order of preference. From there emerges an elaborate painting style,which differs from the screen’s monochrome or colored image. The class of the42

color’s bounce-off in a given scene is progressively limited, when it is measuredby the light’s luminance being portrayed in the same scene. This may, relatively,

S ee Julian Hochberg, Art and Perception, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of4 3

Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 231.

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 16&17.44

See ibid., pp. 153&166.45

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cause a contrasted effect in a scene. Correspondingly, a color’s differentiation ina scene is not a result of automatic imitation of these colors on the canvas. ‘Theprinciples of simultaneous contrast’ related Julian Hochberg, ‘may be used toremedy this limitation,’ yet this matter was convincingly accomplished in thechiaroscuro -Rambrandtesque paintings, in which the dramatic value of light wasstrikingly heightened by its juxtaposition with shade. The same canon ofcontrasted technique applies to the color image, and was a continued tradition byCorot, and the Impressionist school, who elevated it to being pictoriallydramatic.43

Many means contributed to the motion picture’s expressiveness, its dramaticinterpretation of a scene, and its competence in presenting an object in itsspatiotemporal association . Technical efficiency available to the film is qualifiedto alter the spatial relationships of the object and lend new visualization to thereal surrounding, but it modifies the original dynamic discourse at which thataction may proceed. Despite the filmic image’s conditioned realism, it conveysto the beholder a sum of identification of data from the object in focus. Pictorialt reat ment ‘is not necessarily a flat and impotent copying of nature, but’,according to the cinematographer Vladimir Nilsen, ‘an art-interpretation of itsuch as will enriches us with a new perception of the genuine meaning,associations and essence of that nature.’ Ever since the motion picture’s44

youthful days, pictorial art was taken as a consequential source of inspiration informing the film’s composition or lighting art. Italians, Germans, and Americansborrowed a great deal from classical painting. This cinematographic borrowingwas described by Vladimir Nilsen as a “pictorial imitation.” It causeddisharmony in the assembling between long- and mid-shot compositions on onehand, and close-ups on the another. 45

David Wark Griffith pioneered the imitation of the old masters’ pictorial art inThe Birth of a Nation (1915). Griffith obtained some action motives from theengraving Battles and Leaders of the American Civil War for action scenes in hisp ict ure. Cecil B. DeMille was another of Hollywood’s film-makers who

John Koenig, Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art 1942; [Koenig’s record is unnumbered].46

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borrowed eagerly from classic pictorial art. DeMille’s, The King of Kings (1927),marked a high point in Hollywood film-making’s wholesale buy from canvas art.DeMille not only imitated, but copied Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Last Suppercomposition and lighting technique in his picture. The compositional outcomewas notably artificial and frozen in time. In Hollywood’s 1930's realism period,we may find, occasionally, some mechanical imitation of pictorial art. DeMillewas one of those film-makers who was always in favor of pictorial art’sreproduction in his pictures. The dynamic lines of the Indian battle-scene in hiswes t ern, The Texas Rangers (1936), marked an immediate relationship withGiovanni Battista Piranesi’s Assassination scene. Henry King, together withLeon Shamroy, repeated this compositional and lighting inspiration from thecanvas classics in The Black Swan (1942). Oddly enough, this pictorial imitationsecured for Shamroy an Academy Award in the category of BestCinematography. Again, the tradition of this pictorial parallelism was stretchedby King Vidor in the battle scenes of War and Peace (1952), in which Vidorinspired his fighting scenes from many paintings of Napoleonic times.

3.1.1 The Scenographic Space’s Narrational Composition

A setting’s spatial configuration would not be carried out only for the sake of itsaesthetical locality. The narrative action is the only reference that defines theform and visualization of the scenographic arrangement. Any distance betweentwo points of the set is calculated exactly in order to serve the action in the scene.These dimensions should enhance the dramatic quality of the scene. A visuallyimpressive set must utilize the same aesthetical means cinematographically;whether in a close-up or long shot it must reflect visual efficiency. Every portionof the set should contribute to the whole. A composition in the motion picture46

is composed when the mise-en-scenes are arranged in their spatiotemporalrelationship in the shot, and looked at from the very possible narrative angle. Acompositional image can be captured in one camera set-up. This is enough toprovide the beholder with an instructive disclosure of the scene. But it does notpermit an idea about the whole body of the picture. Thus it is clear that filmiccomp osition must obey a general principle and method that define thestructurization of a screen’s composition, but cannot construct a single scene in

See V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 21&115.47

D a niel Bryan Clark, Composition in the Motion Pictures, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual, Vol. 1,4 8

H o l l y w ood: The American Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times1972), pp. 81&82; Clark’s treatise on the pictorial composition in the photoplay belongs to the most dependable analyzesavailable on this subject.

See ibid., p. 82.49

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isolation.47

One of the cinematographer’s primary aspirations is composing the screen image.‘The art of composing motion pictures is the keystone of successfullyphotographed productions. This is true because good or bad composition dictatesthe success or failure of the story.’ A properly planned scene’s compositiondirects the beholder’s attention to any point chosen as the center of interest in theimage, even if the action is proceeding elsewhere on the set. When treating thescenographic and character’s composition, it is up to the cinematographerwhether he constructs either a complicated or simple image composition of thispictorial representation. Simplicity in this compositional treatment can be48

reached within an indoor or outdoor scene: in the interior, beside the setting, itis possible to compose the mise-en-scenes and characters to stress high dramaticefficiency. This will occur when distinctive objects are positioned in the mostdramat ic angles -on the walls, floors, or even hanging from above. Minglingthese spatial vocabularies together can be enhanced by evocative illuminationand the character’s mobility. The same practice is applicable in exterior scenes,while arranging natural or artificial objects to occupy the scene (trees, electricp osts, clouds, fire, smoke, et al.), added to lenses, filters, light reflectors andgauzes. All these will be dramatized by some artificial touches, to lead thebeholder’s eye to the scene’s focus of interest.49

A set t ing’s floor-plan has tremendous impact upon the set’s aestheticalvisualization. It will contain every aesthetic sign of the scene within the spatial.The set’s floor-plan commands the visual level of the scene, because no matterwhat the aesthetical quality of the space might be, it is defined by the floor-plan.Integrating entrances and exits into the spatial organization is another vital meansin scenographic efficiency. Objects, color composition, dynamic perspective, andassigning the scene’s center’s of attention, could all be employed to match thespirit of the story. A large piece of furniture (sofa) reflects the center of interestin the spatial, and placing it somewhere off-center is acceptable, according the

Tom Mikotowicz, Oliver Smith: A Bio-Bibliography. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press 1993, pp. 14&94; Paul5 0

T. Frankl, Form and Re-Form: A Practical Handbook of Modern Interiors. New York: Harper & Brothers 1930, pp.75&79.

C arlyle Ellis, Art and the Motion Picture, in: Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, Vol.5 1

128, No. 217 (November 1926), p. 54.

S e e A rt h u r Edwin Krows, The Talkies. New York: Henry Holt 1930, pp. 146&147; “stage crossing.” It is another5 2

me a n s, of ‘awkward masking’ on the stage: ‘when one character unavoidably walks in front of another and so hides himfrom the audience, the second takes a single step in the opposite direction at the moment of crossing so as very materiallyto reduce the time of eclipse.’ Ibid., p. 168, fn. 1.

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stage and film Scenographer Oliver Smith, while the rest of the objects areplaced in accordance and with regard to the character’s handling. Anton Grot50

mas t ered these scenographic techniques in his spatial arrangement at WarnerBrothers. With it, he was able to present the Gangster Age on the screen. Despitethe shabby and Teutonic outlooking sets, they contained warmth in them. Grot’sset t ings were familiar to any average American of the Depression time. Theaverage looking spaghetti restaurant in Little Caesar (1931), for instance, markeda canned set’s conception in its floor plan. Lines of its convergent perspectivewere enhanced through the windows’ framings, the bar, stools, seats, and thelight bulbs in the ceiling, all heading toward the center which pointed toward theexit of the restaurant. The scene’s unbalanced lighting effect reflected theinstability in the life of Rico (Edward G. Robinson) and his buddy Joe Massara(Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.), after they robbed a gas station that night.

While the beholder’s eye is pursuing a dynamic composition’s center of interestwherever it is moving in the scene, a contradiction or even confusion may arisein the beholder’s mind, if the mobile composition’s center of interest did notmat ch to some degree with the stationary’s focus of attention in the spatialorganization. Many canons of compositional organization, however, govern this51

highly sensitive field of vision on the screen. Composing the set’s entrance andexit in the proper location saves the action from wasting film footage, and wouldallow the characters just to get onto the set, act their part and move out. 52

Splendor of the form, together with the textural contrast and tonal compositionwere envisioned, by the Scenographer R. Myerscough-Walker, as an exaggeratedmeans of displaying the real world’s attributes on the screen. Yet these are what

D u e to the camera objective’s distortion, the phenomenon of the real world acquires some degree of distortion upon5 3

the screen; see R. Myerscough-Walker, Stage and Film Decor. London: Pitman 1939, p. 22.

Quoted in: Jean Paul Richter (Ed.), The Literary works of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol. 1, London: Sampson Low Marston,54

S e arle & Rivingston 1883 (2 Ed., The Notebook of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol., New York: Dover Publications 1970), p.nd

328.

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, p. 21.55

George D. Birkhoff, Aesthetic Measure. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press 1933, pp. 212-214.56

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invoke the spirit of the scene and make it attractive to the beholder. Again,53

Leonardo Da Vinci confirmed the vitality of the form, since words are not asuniversal as the form is, since it indicates the representation of any effect innat ure. Film scenography deals with forms in the space; in fact the film54

Scenographer is the only artist among the film’s production team who createsthree-dimensional forms in the scene, and translates the spoken word into a three-dimensional space. Hence the art of form and forming in the space has exceededthe limitation of words- anyone may read a form wherever it might be, but nota word, unless it undergoes translation.

To project a distinctive screen composition, far from being theatrical, Griffithgradually disregarded convention (of the inherited rules of the stage composition)in his pictures, as they were not as effective on the screen as they were on thestage. He constructed his characters’ composition to and from the camera, andthe method proved its efficiency on the screen and not on the stage. Griffithrequired his characters to abandon the theatrical and exaggerated form of facialexp ression, and instead he insisted on more intimate performing. To capturethese gestures, he moved the camera closer to the action. Classical pictorial55

composition is unquestionably narrative, but when we try to clarify the why andhow in relation to such composition and its structure, we will require a highersense of order to explain the matter. ‘The ‘complexity’ of paintings is usually soconsiderable that they are analogous to ornamental patterns whose constituentornaments must be appreciated one by one.’ That analogous level of reading willassure an easy grasp of such complex compositions. Sixteenth-century Venetianpainters mastered this compositional technique. A close reading of such pictorialtechnique reveals that the construction was based in the order of light, shade,form and color. Like canvas art, many artistic levels and norms constitute the56

aesthetic vocabularies of the screen image. Critical approach to this significantbody of aesthetic signs and data on the screen can only be appreciated one by

R e mb randt’s categorization to his characters was notably revealed in the Nightwatch 1642; Gary Schwartz,5 7

Rembrandt: His Life, His Paintings. New York: Penguin Books 1985, p. 364.

Ed w ard Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed.,5 8 nd

Designing for Films, 1949), p. 25.

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one. No study related to the motion pictures could assert its completeness whenattempting the analysis of the entire set of filmic signs on the screen.

Rembrandt fully realized the dramatic efficiency of the juxtaposition of light andshade in his pictorial composition. The master subtly manipulated this techniqueto the degree to which he imposed a social categorization on his characters.57

Hollywood’s film-makers realized the dramatic value in the manipulation of lightand shadow in their screen composition. By adapting some of the conventionalt echnique in their images, they were able to deliver exceptionally narrativescreen compositions. Josef Von Sternberg painted his pictures with light andshade. Darknesses of his composition were spread in a painstaking attitude tostress the dramatic effect of the rays of light in the scene. In Morocco (1930),Von St ernberg and Lee Garmes provided this visual technique in quite anextraordinary stylization. Every bit of light, shade, or form was calculated indetails on the screen. The picture revealed its own visual interpretation. Moroccoachieved highly narrative aesthetical stylization throughout the picture. Thisensured both artists an Academy Award Nomination.

In the scenographic arrangement, it is profoundly significant as well as dramaticto define how the light source would arrive to the set. Without the source of lightthe spatial organization is unseen. Lighting effects include many types that willdefine the spirit of the scene. Experimenting with unique sources of lighting58

effects reached a highly narrative quality in the hands of Gregg Toland. InWuther ing Heights (1939), he attempted to find new lighting methods forenhancing the dramatic mood of the picture. Toland’s dramatic light reached thesettings from unusual directions. Lighting the set with an existing ceiling wasanother challenge in Toland’s cinematography. In Wuthering Heights, he let thelight, indirectly, arrive to the scene from an exterior source through the set’swindows, because headlights from above could not be used while the set wasroofed over. Additionally, Toland devised his lighting source to emerge fromwithin the set, and placed it in the fireplace to create the effect of natural anddramatic illumination. By placing a little lit candle on the table he enabled furtherdramatic efficiency and gloomy mood. This realistic lighting secured a high levelof narrative quality in the picture. After Gregg Toland’s careful study of classical

Rudolf Arnheim, Film as Art. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1957, p. 68.59

Margaret Farrand Thorp, America At the Movies. London: Faber and Faber 1946, pp. 150&151; a photographer, and6 0

a continuity girl were in charge of the set’s aesthetic continuity during the production throughout the filming. The formertook pictures from the set’s latest take, and made sure that every thing was in its place the next morning ready for action,whereas the latter watched out for the continuity of following the script step-by-step; a relative comparison was madeb e t w e e n Hollywood and the English continuity crew on the set in: Martha Robinson, Continuity Girl. London: RobertHale 1937.

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p ictorial art, he settled upon his lighting patterns, and was able to balancebetween the melodrama of tragic love and revenge.

Gray scale filmic image can be grasped, as the composition’s series of grayprovides the imposing of dark on light, or light on a dark tone that would producethe visual information. With the shifting of different tone values, of black and59

whit e on the screen, the cue of depth emerges in the Scenographic Space.Consequently the means of juxtaposing and counterposing between the mise-en-scenes in their various planes are easily comprehensible by the average beholder.

Dan Sayre Groesbeck was one important artist of Cecil B. DeMille’s team. Hisass ignment was to pre-visualize the filmic scenes in DeMille’s productions.Groesbeck provided DeMille with sketches that recommended single and groupsof characters’ compositions, and how the scene’s background was supposed tobe arranged. Groesbeck advised on the lighting effect for the cinematographerand gaffer as well. His sketches were taken as a source of inspiration by DeMilleto start his action with. DeMille was not different from his contemporaries-60

Michael Curtiz at Warners who copied Anton Grot (e.g., Illustrations 8- 13), orJosef Von Sternberg who echoed Hans Dreier’s sketches at Paramount, step bystep. DeMille’s borrowing from classic art (Ruebens, Dore, Van Dyck, Corot orPiranesi) was not a pure invention of his own. All three film directors stampedtheir own signature on someone else’s talent. It would not have removed muchfrom their directorial status to acknowledge the effort of their colleagues fromt he scenographic departments. They took it for granted as their own pureinvention. But it was not. Today we must give credit where credit is due.

John Ford pre-envisioned on the set what he wanted as a picture in advance. Thisskillful technique meant that Ford rarely had to make a second take in a scene.Surprisingly, he never viewed any of his daily rushes. Ford saw the result of hiseffort only when the picture was completed. In addition, he would not let any ofhis characters view the daily rushes until the picture was finished, as this may

F o o t a g e t aken the previous day on the set and viewed the next morning were termed by film-makers as ‘the daily6 1

ru s h e s ’; see Fred J. Balshofer and Arthur C. Miller, One Reel a Week. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of CaliforniaPress 1967, pp. 195&196.

S ee Daniel Bryan Clark, Composition in Motion Pictures, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual, Vol. 1,6 2

H o l l y w ood: The American Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times1972), pp. 87&89.

Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillian 1953, p. 131.63

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cause some shifting in their characterization, while they tried to improve theiract ing. John Ford never considered one day’s rushes as separated work. Hebelieved in the importance of the picture’s organic unity as a whole. Regardless61

what film genre it might be, Ford’s visualization of his scenes induced artisticallyeffective work. His compositional image was simple and highly narrative on thescreen.

A cinematographer, along with architects or painters, all share the principle of‘Dynamic Symmetry’ in their work. In Daniel Bryan Clark’s definition, this ‘issimply a system of charting composition within a given field by dynamic lines,and symmetrically placing the subjects accordingly.’ When composing a pictorialcomposition, the cinematographer traces the bold and distinctive lines suggestedby t he subject. This would apply to the composition of a group, or even aportraiture. Some film-makers opposed ‘formal balance and regularity’ in both:62

t he set t ing and the composition. Anything monotonous in the scenographicstylization can limit the narrative efficiency of the pictorial composition. Bycontrast, a too-complicated spatial arrangement can easily lead to variousframing possibilities in the representational treatment, and can consequently takeaway from the essential facts of the story. Such pictorial representation causedsome just criticisms of Hollywood. Hollywood’s cinematographic63

interpretation, during its Golden Age, maintained a balanced and centralcomposition on the screen overall. Sometimes, this screen image exceeded thecanons of composition, which came despite a balanced spatial configuration ofthe mise-en-scenes and the setting’s composition. In calling for the “house style,”Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer ventured to include as much opulence in the set as theycould fit in (four to five hundred characters at one time). This bric-a-brac ofhuman elements in the scene induced confusion to its beholder. In Rosalie (1937)an overwhelmingly large group of symmetrical compositions throughout thepicture could be viewed as a whole, but an immediate glance at any detail of thespatial composition would inescapably reveal great complexity when perceiving

Lewis Herman, A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and Television Films. New York and64

Scarborough: New American Library 1952, p. 255.

Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillian 1953, p. 66.6 5

Len Barish, But Some Things Stay the Same, in: ITVA News/A publication of the International Television Association6 6

(May-June 1995), p. 6.

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the composition. The beholder is continually wondering where and at what tostart looking first.

T he M is-en-scene’s symmetrical nature in the scenographic Space does notalways spell equal mass, dimension, or rhythm of objects being assigned on eachside of the scene. Well-balanced symmetrical composition calls for comfort andenjoyment by its beholder. Customary composition symmetry in the set ‘isentirely too pat for the eye to accept. It is static in quality and so tends to retardthe flow of pictorial movement. Balance, too, should furnish movement to theover-all flow of continuity.’ If we graphically imagine that the screen is divided64

equally by two lines horizontally and by the same vertically, the resulting gridwould create nine imaginary rectangles within the screen frame. This is whatfilm-makers call The Rule of Thirds, which is applicable as a pictorial measurefor the equilibrium of compositional masses and tonal treatment. It does not callfor sy mmetrical balance. ‘The dominant lines of any picture should runap p roximately along some of these lines, and the lines should be near thedividing margin between masses of dark and light areas.’ The rule applies for thet onal balance- when two-thirds of the space is exposed to high-key, and theremaining third is lit with low-key, the scene is marked as high-key scene. Iftwo-thirds of the set is illuminated with low-key, and the other third is kept inbright light, it is characterized as a low-key scene. When light and shade have aone to one ratio, the scene will be out of balance. 65

By continuation of the canonical models of composition: in much the same wayas the camera angle and placement of the characters’ eyes in the frame arearresting means, positioning the lower limit of the frame in relation to thecharacter’s body is equally dramatic in the shot. It is quite easy to locate the66

line of attention between two characters having a conversation. This is simplyaround t heir imaginary line of vision, since the head is the human center ofcommunication (seeing, talking, hearing, and smelling). No matter what theposition of the body is, it is subordinate to the head, i.e., the line of interest must

Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hasting House 1976, pp. 30&32; a far-reaching study was67

conducted by Arijon concerning the pictorial and compositional language upon the screen.

W e l fo rd Beaton, Grouping Characters to Make Them Face Camera, in: The Film Spectator, Vol. 5, No. 7 (May 26,6 8

1928), pp. 6&7.

C f. Julian Hochberg, Art and Perception, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of6 9

Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 239.

S e e Lewis W. Physioc, Pictorial Composition, in: A. C., Vol. 9, No. 2 (May 1928), p. 21; a fair account about the7 0

fundamental laws of composition was introduced by Physioc in his analysis.

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be centered around the character’s head. This principle of attention sometimes67

caused Hollywood to be criticized with validity, because some film-makers -fromthe transition era- exhausted this formula, as the composition of a group wasnoticeably squeezed together to face the camera at all times, without forming atriangle. Such portrait composition is certainly not applicable to genres like68

pantomime comedy (Chaplin), or dance musical (Astaire-Rogers), in which theposition of the hand, or the body’s impression is as vital as the facial expression,if not more so.

When watching a compositional image, we are selective in our perception of thesubject. We are not analyzing the entire constituents of the image. Instead, weattempt to select the most informative data, and try to cope with the basic linesof t he composition. This is applicable when the compositional image is69

structured according to the canons of composition. Capturing that simplicity ina screen’s composition is not quite as simple a task as it might seem. Inlandscape (exterior) cinematography, the cinematographer is offered unlimitedp oss ibilities for framing a composition. The success or failure of thisvisualization depends on the cinematographer’s knowledge and skills tointroduce the laws of composition when selecting the image. Landscape70

iconography reached a paradigmatic beauty in The Good Earth (1937). FlorenceYoch, the landscape engineer, supervised the terracing of the rice fields on thefoothills of the San Fernando Valley. Yoch planted authentic Chinese crops torep roduce the Chinese farm land on MGM’s lot. It was a highly realisticlandscaping reproduction of the Chinese land (Illustration 43). Evidently KarlFreund was familiar with the classical laws of the landscape composition(Illustrations 44-48). His cinematography in The Good Earth attained its ownvisual style. Karl Freund captured the foothills to serve his framing of thecomposition remarkably. His horizon line was running somewhat diagonally inrelat ion to the frame, to signify the dynamic of the Chinese farmer while

Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, p. 117.71

C f. Lo u i s Giannetti, Understanding Movies. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall 1972 (1976, and 3 Ed.7 2 rd

1982), pp. 61, 63&66; Giannetti introduced a comprehensive and valuable account on film-making and its analysis.

A Letter from William Wyler, in: Sequence, No. 8 (Summer 1949), p. 68; Gregg Toland’s early death in 1948, at the7 3

a g e o f forty-four, shocked Hollywood and was considered a great loss to the film industry; Ace Cinematographer GreggToland Passes, in: Los Angeles Times (September 29, 1948).

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landscaping his field. Karl Freund avoided any monotony in his composition.Noticing a balance in the compositional image is easy, and there is no dominanceof horizontalness or verticality of lines. Karl Freund selected only the basic andexpressive forms- tones, lines, and means with which to take us to the Chinesecountryside. Karl Freund’s work won an Oscar for Best Cinematography. Mostof the film footage was shot on location in the Chatsworth section of LosAngeles, while other scenes were shot in Cedar City, Utah, and China. HarryOliver, Arnold Gillespie, Edwin B. Willis, Gabriel A. Scognamillo, Frank Tong,and Cedric Gibbons contributed to the picture’s scenographic stylization. Themain set was tremendously large- hundreds of buildings were constructed tocreate the “Wang’s Village”described in the story, where most of the action tookplace. Years later the location became a housing development.

A composition of a shot is usually driven by the subject’s mobility, camera angleor movement concerning the focus of attention, and by the mood of lightingaround the subject. To suggest a noticeable depth cue and balance in the screen71

composition, film-makers compose their image, chiefly, in layers of background,middle ground, and foreground. An object placed in the foreground will reflectsome clarifications on the subject matter behind it. ‘A great deal, for space’observed Louis Giannetti, ‘is one of the principal mediums of communication infilm, and the way that people are arranged in space can tell us a lot about theirsocial and psychological relationships.’ Some cinematographers of the Golden72

Age commanded a remarkable layering technique in their compositions. In hisworks with William Wyler and other film-makers, Gregg Toland achieved a highrealism in his representational treatment, by keeping his scene’s foreground andbackground in a sharp focus. This visual clarity allowed William Wyler toarrange his compositions in depth. With Toland’s realistic focus, Wyler couldplace more than one character simultaneously on the screen without relying oncutting from one character to the next. This compositional technique isdeliberat ely persuasive, since it keeps the narrational stream active with nointerruption.73

D o n Li v i n g ston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillan 1953, pp.7 4

66&68.

John Mueller, Astaire Dancing: The Musical Films. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1985, pp. 29&30. 75

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Apart from the scene’s masses, every shot must have its focal point of attention,t o guide the beholder’s eye to it. This focal point could be one subject, or agat hering of subjects. Whether virtual or illusory, dynamic lines of pictorialcomp osition signpost the beholder’s eye to the focal point of attention. If acharact er in the front is gazing at something in the back, the relationship offoreground-background is underlined. This communication between the twopoints (front-back) is stressed by the “lines of force,” which are present in everywell-planned composition: ‘if the lines are straight, they travel diagonally acrossthe frame, or if curved, they follow a graceful S across the frame from foregroundto background.’ Choreographing for a musical means dealing with the spatial74

assigned by the camera’s field of vision. This makes the narrative and dynamicpatterns of a musical move to and from the camera, but not from one side toanother. The characters’ movement is usually proceeding in respect to the spaceor to their surroundings, and not in regard to the camera. The latter is subordinateto the action and not the other way around. In Astaire’s musicals the guidingprinciple was the dynamic of the dance as narrative interest, while framing thecomposition served the aesthetic of the action. 75

In an interview with the Ladies’ Home Journal, Cedric Gibbons outlined thecanonical forms of the spatial arrangement to the American woman. He advisedt hem t o apply these scenographic canons in their home. Gibbons called forpreserving the simplicity of a space, and in doing so, the space would add charmto its inhabitant. If an object contends with its background ‘they destroy eachother.’An overcrowded living space with too many objects will belittle theoccupants’ grace. MGM’s chief Scenographer Cedric Gibbons summed up thespatial rules for the homemaker to comply with in her living space: ‘go in fordesign in only one place in a room.’ This means, be in favor of unifiedcomposition in the place. ‘Avoid cluttered carpets or walls. They lack repose. Becertain that the pieces of furniture you buy are in scale with the rest of the room... . If you possibly can avoid it, do not buy furniture in suites.’ Gibbonsmaintained, ‘Do not place too many pieces of furniture obliquely in a room. Theyp roject a certain series of lines. ... [and] overcrowds the place. (This and the

C e d ri c Gibbons quoted in: Mayme Ober Peak, Every Home’s a Stage, in: Ladies’s Home Journal (July 1933), pp.7 6

2 5 &7 7 ; t h i s i nterview with Metro’s chief Scenographer Cedric Gibbons belongs to the most significant interviewsGibbons has given throughout the 1930's, it is clear perception of his film scenographic philosophy.

S e e ibid., p. 77; by the mid 1930's, the tendency in the interior living space was emerging in the United States for7 7

s o l v i n g problems of the modern house’s confined space. The “Model Rooms”exhibition in the Pedac Galleries,R o c k e fe l l er Center, revealed this trend of interior organization . Various inspirations were depicted by Paul R.Ma cAllister, James W. Folger and R. Bushnell Hyman, who attempted creating a spacious effect in the small living space,w h i c h c a me in form of: furniture componation, sliced doors and object’s simplification; see The Decorator ‘Enlarges’ theRoom, in: The New York Times Magazine (June 28, 1936).

C f. Noel Burch, To the Distant Observer: Form and Meaning in the Japanese Cinema. Berkeley and Los Angeles:7 8

University of California Press 1979, p. 79.

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following are the author’s italic). Gibbons went farther with his76

recommendations for treating the spatial composition. ‘If you are buying acomfor table arm chair, be careful of the color and texture of the upholsterymaterial. ... In the matter of accessories, be extremely careful about lamp shades,while the shade should screen your eye from the direct light. Distribute yourlight. Do not concentrate too much of it. Have a general glow with few points ofconcentration for reading. ...Throw out anything with a naturalistic design. ...don’t give it away, destroy it!’ Gibbons repeatedly emphasized his confidencein the simplicity of the spatial organization. ‘Never hang framed photographs.They should be placed on tables and chests. Try hanging only few nice imageson the walls. Avoid fads in doing your house over -such as the all-white or mid-Victorian- unless you are able to refurnish as soon as you tire of them- which youwill do, sooner or later.’ These canons of screening the architectural77

deficiencies, and compositioning objects within the space summed up CedricGibbons’ vision of the scenographic stylization at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Headapted this same spatial philosophy in his own home on Kingman Avenue, inSanta Monica, California.

By t he late 1920's, American and European film practice fulfilled a qualifiedlevel of pictorial aesthetic. It allowed the disregard, mostly if not completely, ofthe film’s disruptive caption, as the screen image alone was polished enough tonarrate the plot. In the early years of the 1930's, Hollywood film-makers feltuncomfortable when dealing with the canned theater. This suspicion induced anotable tendency toward “the picture should still tell the story,” and should countas little as possible on the dialogue and caption in the production. Introducingsound served as a counterpoint in the production. This metaphorical presentation,in its transitional era, delivered evocative images to the American screen. The78

Mary Beth Haralovich, All that Heaven Allows: Color, Narrative Space, and Melodrama, in: Peter Lehman (Ed.), Close7 9

Viewings: An Anthology of New Film Criticism. Tallahassee: The Florida State University Press 1990, pp. 60-61&70.

Alfred Guzzetti, Narrative and the Film Image, in: New Literary History, Vol. 6, No. 2 (Winter 1975), p. 384; Andre8 0

B a z i n was obviously reserved to confer further details, when defining the filmic image. Rather, he limited his discussiont o t h e a c h i e v ing of that image, which emerges from various aesthetic levels, as it is concluded by the cinematographict ransformance; see Andre Bazin, Qu-est-ce que Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 2 (Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, Whatis Cinema? Vol. 2, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1971), p. 175.

Robert S. Woodworth, Experimental Psychology. New York: Henry Holt 1938, p. 651.81

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Microphone’s immobility, and over sensitivity to any noise in the ScenographicSpace, forced Hollywood film-makers to define new methods of storytelling andwork around this technical frustration. Ernst Lubitsch’s romantic comedy, OneHour With You (1932), contained metered dialogue and numerous songs. But thepicture was a conglomeration of various camera techniques stressing more onimages and spatial properties than on spoken lines. Obviously this came to servenarratively in illustrating the modern setting’s attributes of the picture. Lubitsch’slengthy tracking and panning of the camera persuasively underlined thecomp osition of Hans Dreier and A. E. Freudeman’s landmark Art Deco andscenographic stylization.

As in other film genres, Hollywood employed the mise-en-scenes in themelodrama as a narrative vehicle. Spatial realism in the melodrama intensifiest he dramatic discourse between the characters and their surroundings. Thisrealistic treatment of the spatial composition reveals the characters’ ideo-sociological positions, and manifests, elaborately, their struggle in life.Dissimilar to the musical or fantasy films, the melodrama depends profoundly ona realistic narrative space. The beholder’s interactive association with the79

p ict ure’s data upon the screen depends upon the efficiency of its spatialorganization. The psychologist Robert S. Woodworth confirmed this perceptual80

efficiency of spatial relations, in which the subjects’ forms, sizes, their distance,and order from the beholder’s eye are especially qualified to be perceived atease. Out of these treatises, we may suggest that the motion picture’s81

comp os itional image contains more aesthetic signs and data than theseconstituents of the pictorial composition.

3.1.2 Quattrocento Pictorial Art and the Film Scenography

In photoplay’s infantile days, its compositional treatment was based upon atheatrical form of representation. Theatricalization of the set, imposed by the

As it is known, in the these days the Scenographer’s professional training started on the stage; V. Nilsen, The Cinema82

as a Graphic Art, p. 155.

See ibid., p. 153.83

Ernst Hans Gombrich, The “What” and the “How”: Perspective Representation and the Phenomenal World, in: Richard84

Rudner and Israel Scheffler (Ed.), Logic & Art. Indianapolis and New York: The Bobbs-Merrill 1972, p. 138.

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Scenographer, limited the cinematographic composition to accommodate the“scenic box” dimensions, and not to exceed its limits. Out of this representationaltreatment emerged a centric composition as the only narrative form possible,which related in its symmetrical nature to the scene’s frontal arrangement. Thiscompositional approach bore a direct resemblance to Renaissance pictorial art.In this imitation of Renaissance art, the compositional construction maintaineda kind of pictorial artiness. This imitative approach to classical art lent to the82

cinematography a somewhat static pictorial quality when taking the symmetricalcomp os it ion in middle and long shots. It delivered a kind of conventionalsplendor ‘transferred to the perfection of the frame locked-in-itself.’ Theseimages were a bold imitation. Their artistic value was justified by how closelythey were reproduced in comparison to the original. Yet when it came to close-upshots and a grouping of characters, this duplication of the Renaissance becamehop eless because of the dynamic quality of the center of interest. Close-upsharmed the “artiness” of the picture, as they profoundly contradicted with thelong shots’ approximate originality. By bridging to the dynamic groupings andclose-up shots, the cinematographer had to call for a self-governing handle to thesubject, which in turn provoked the lack of organic unity between the shots. 83

Ernst Hans Gombrich affirmed that our spatial activity in our surrounding is whatseparates the real world we are living in from that of a picture. Yet while we areactive in the real space, we are led by the modification of appearances arising inour spatial field, i.e., when we move to and from an object, we see some kind ofdeformation in those objects’ sizes in our surroundings while their forms stay thesame. Our perception of the dynamic space is higher in quality compared with84

our p ercep t ion of a static one, because the former space is closer to ourexperience and use of space in our everyday life, whereas in the latter we aremerely exercising a passive observation of a lifeless and still place. Our sense ofspace, according to the anthropologist Edward T. Hall, is essentially in favor ofwatching activity. It has less to do with the static pictorial representation of theRenaissance’s vanishing point of the linear perspective and its aid for perceiving

See Edward T. Hall, The Hidden Dimension. Garden City, New York: Doubleday 1966, Chap. VII. 85

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Standards of the Truth: The Arrested Image and the Moving Eye, in: Critical Inquiry, Vol. 7,8 6

No. 2 (Winter 1980), p. 248.

Julius S. Held and Donald Posner, 17th and 18th Century Art: Baroque Painting, Sculpture, Architecture. Englewood87

Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall 1979, pp. 14-16.

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the spatial, as it was still asserted in most art and architectural academies. Hall85

elaborated in the narrowing-down of the perceptual theory of the spatial, whichis related, more, to the kinetic depth cue. This emphasizes a valid advantage tothe perception of dynamic depth upon the screen. As the camera passes by in theScenographic Space, the beholder witnesses a degree of alteration in the mise-en-scenes’ masses, tonal values, and perspective. This, in turn, has a closerelationship with the beholder’s surroundings, but the general shape of thesubject would remain the same. Nonetheless, the vanishing point preserves itsvalidity in the territory of the static space in Renaissance pictorial art.

Some of the Quattrocento pictorial art invites us to join and share the momentousnature of the pictorial scene. This communication between the pictorial event andits beholder was termed by Gombrich, ‘the eye-witness principle.’ Its conceptionrelates to the canon of perspective. During this pictorial communication,“therat ionalization of space” permits every aesthetic sign in the image to beperceived as if from the same point. On the other hand, the conceptualization86

of Baroque artists of the space was infinite and unified. Whether seventeenth-century pictorial art’s totality of space was limited or limitless may be questionedby art historians. Nontheless everyone agrees that the Baroque’s pictorial spaceis ‘continuous and indescribably vast.’ Some artists utilised this boundlessnessof space in letting their composition dive retrogressively into the darkness ofshade and mystery (Rembrandt), others arranged clarity in the foreground andbackground (Bellotto)- but both artists shared the concept of unified space.‘Baroque space, with perfect logic, encompasses the world of the beholder.’Spatial illusionism technique emerged from Renaissance art and wasmethodically taken advantage of by the Baroque artist. After stage Scenographersrealized the artistic value of the illusion of extended space, they borrowed theconcept and replicated it in their stage scenography. 87

Late in the nineteenth-century’s stage realism period, the box set started gainingspecific dramatic value in the realistic dramas of Anton Chekhov, Bernard Shaw,

R. Myerscough-Walker, Stage and Film Decor. London: Pitman 1939, p. 60.88

R o b ert Olson, Art Direction for Film and Video. Boston: Focal Press 1993, pp. 4&23; my spatial configuration for8 9

Oregon Public Broadcasting’s (OPB) weekly program “Seven Days”in 1995, was based on the same “boxed set”principle, but this time without ceiling.

James Hood MacFarland, Architectural Problems in Motion Picture Production, in: The American Architect, Vol. 118,9 0

No. 2326 (July 21, 1920), p. 66.

Body and Soul Is (Here) Put Together, in: Fortune, Vol. 4 (August 1931), p. 30.91

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Jones Pinero and Ibsen. That matched well with the emergence of the motion88

picture and its borrowing from the stage’s scenography. Hollywood borrowedthis scenographic concept in the “canned and office set” in the transitional period, during the nineteen-thirties and beyond. A box-like shaped set consisted of aback wall beside two side-walls (sometimes with a ceiling). The eye-witnessingprinciple in this set placed the beholder on the side of the non-existent fourthwall of the set. This spatial concept can be seen frequently in the scenographicrealism on the screen during the 1930's. Almost the same spatial plan ofLeonardo Da Vinci, or Andrea Castagno’s Last Supper was reproduced, withsome stylization, in shyster films, newspaper men and business offices in thetower building. This spatial plan included some of the Moderne, such as HansDreiers’ dining room composition in One Hour with You (1932), or borrowingfrom the classic grouping composition as in Citizen Kane (1941). Much of thespatial technique of contemporary film scenography is based on the conventionalscenographic conception of the stage. Today’s Scenographer approaches thissame p rinciple with an interpretation that is aided by new material and thetechnological products available.89

The illusion of extended space was evocatively projected in the Quattrocentopainting. Sometimes this illusion of space was effected by the artist’s use oflongit udinal barrel, or vaulted ceiling. In the silent film period, some ofHollywood’s Scenographers introduced this same principle of extending spacein their sets. Robert Haas was among those Scenographers who pioneered in theintroduction of a roofed set in the film scenography. Robert Haas realized thenarrative quality of an extended set with a ceiling when he introduced a vaultedsetting in On With the Dance [1920?]. Fortune’s editor praised the exceptional90

spatial treatment with Anton Grot’s introduction of a ceiling and a French‘estaminet’ in Body and Soul (1930). Hollywood’s Scenographers fully sensed91

the dramatic effect of the ceiling in reflecting a continuity of space. But they also

S e e Vincent LoBrutto, By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers. Westport, Connecticut: Praeger 1992,9 2

pp. 14&15ff.

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understood that this might work in confining the space to reflect the characters’psychological state and entrapment, as Anton Grot and John Hughes did in LittleCaesar (1930), and The Petrified Forest (1936). Hans Dreier together withRoland Anderson introduced another form of extending space in the war-dramaA Farewell to Arms (1932). They introduced foreground and background archesin the street scene, which induced magnificent forced perspective, and lent moredepth cue novelty to the scene. The picture’s scenographic approach reached anarresting stylization. It granted Dreier and Anderson an Academy AwardNomination.

Many contemporary film Scenographers, such as Robert Boyle, Ted Haworth,Ken Adam, Ferdinando Scarfiotti, among others, regard a Scenographic Spacewith a constructed ceiling as being considerably dramatic. BuonarrotiMichelangelo realized the importance of ceilinged space (when he painted theceiling of the Sistine Chapel 1508-1512). In reality there is no living spacewithout a ceiling. Its presence is a great challenge to the cinematographer, as theceiling prevents lighting the set from above. In their early days, Hollywood setswere mostly constructed without a ceiling. Sets were illuminated by lightingbeams from the top and gantries from around the space. In doing so, beamlight ing induced a flat outlook of the set and character’s composition. Whenlighting a set with an existing ceiling, the effect called for would be naturalism.92

This occurs by letting the light source emerge into the set through a window,lamp, or fireplace, as we have seen earlier in Wuthering Heights (1939). The filmscenographic tradition of constructing a ceilinged set was the admired spatialstylization throughout Hollywood’s Renaissance Age. It enhanced the dramaticmeans of spatial organization during the period of realism.

3.1.3 Impressionism and Film Scenography

Borrowing from the Impressionist’s coloring technique in scenography waspioneered by Joseph Urban at Ziegfeld Follies. Urban applied the Impressionistic‘pointillage’ technique while coloring his sets. His avoidance of the application

R a n d o l f C arter, The World of Flo Ziegfeld. New York: Praeger Publishers 1974, pp. 44&45; Pointillism9 3

(P o i n t i l lismus): a post-Impressionist school of painting exemplified by George Seurat and his followers in the late 19th-c e n t u ry F rance, characterized by the application of paint in small dots and brush strokes (ungemischte Farbenpunktfoermig nebeneinandergesetzt wurden.)

C arlyle Ellis, Art and the Motion Picture, in: Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, Vol.9 4

128, No. 217 (November 1926), pp. 55&56.

S e e Le e Simonson, The Art of Scenic Design: A Pictorial Analysis of Stage Setting and its Relation to Theatrical9 5

Production. New York: Harper & Brothers 1950, p. 38.

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York: Bollingen9 6

Foundation 1960 (2 Ed., New York: Kingsport Press 1961), pp. 216&217.nd

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of solid color was something new in the scenographic interpretation. By93

avoiding solid color application on the settings’ walls, Urban secured anattention- capturing mood of scenographic visualization, and his settings attaineddepth cue originality and warmth. In cinematographic practice, capturing a three-dimensionality of the object always challenged film-makers. Securing the cue ofroundness separated one artist’s technique from another. David W. Griffith wasthe first in cinematographic history to introduce the soft-focus lens at Triangle-Fine Arts Studio. Technically, the soft lens multiplied the image, as it split thelight’s rays hitting the object’s surface. The developed image was a blurring ofclear outlines, and without delicate details, ‘a simplification that has itsequivalent in the canvasses of the impressionist painters. This lens thus givesadded emphasis to mass and added roundness to figures.’94

In one form or another, Impressionism was associated with almost everyscenographic and directorial school in the first half of the twentieth-century. Theconcept of laconism in the composition, that we are familiar with, represents thetechniques of the Impressionists. It is the concept of simplicity that is at the95

heart of this pictorial representation, as it concentrates on abbreviation andinformation in handling the subject matter. Impressionists are the originators ofsuch compositional economy. At this point, Impressionism separates from thedocumentary approach of conventional realism.96

Sketching the motion pictures’ laconic compositions’ technicalities may allowus a closer comparison with Hollywood’s Impressionistic approach in thescenographic stylization during the course of 1930's. Linear economy in film

John Koenig, Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore Museum of Art 1942.97

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 158.98

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scenography means a reduction in the architectural details, whereas the dramaticbalance, t o this abbreviation in the set, is achieved by the concentration onreaching accuracy in other mise-en-scenes, and the costumes of the characters.‘Impressionism in a film setting is generally avoided’ reflected the filmScenographer John Koenig, ‘because where the long shot of it is successful, thecloseup provides nothing but a blank background.’ Cinematographically,97

employing softening lenses and utilizing a certain mood of lighting, were twoscant y means of projecting Impressionism in the moving picture,‘but in afinished form Impressionism’ stated Vladimir Nilsen ‘has never existed as acreative tendency’ on the screen. Impressionistic style was rarely done, or98

reached the screen during the Golden Age. In this rare incarnation, Anton Grotsubtly matched the linear economy in his spatial configuration of the courtroom,in Captain Blood (1935) (see Illustration 49). He successfully abbreviated thescenographic detail to the most expressive and simple elements. Yet the spatialcomposition provided sufficient information regarding the narrative action.Anton Grot relied primarily on period detail accuracy, which was manifested inthe mise-en-scenes through the lectern, portcullis and the judges’ benches. AntonGrot reduced the Scenographic Space’s walls to some flat surfaces void of anyperiod details. This scenographic economy was balanced with the spirit of theage through the character’s costumes and also accessories .

The Impressionist scenographic school shared the same concept of abbreviationwith the German Expressionist approach of spatial economy. But we must bevery careful here in defining the limit that differentiates both scenographiesprofoundly from each other: distinctive form, lines, composition, perspective,lighting effects, and tonal treatment, all form the identity that separates one stylefrom another. The Penthouse nightclub in Gold Diggers of 1935 (1935), slightlyrevealed Anton Grot’s Expressionistic accentuation of the set. His setting for themusical revealed a very careful combination of the Impressionist andExpressionist compositional abbreviation, which was introduced in the lineareconomy and angularity of the modern architectural form. A reduction orthodoxyis noticeable in the Scenographic Space’s walls, floors, and mise-en-scenes. Grotreduced the set’s spatial vocabulary to one single table, and the remaining spacedeals with the character’s choreographic composition. The set’s lightingtreatment was Expressionistic. It revealed deliberate shades deformation- some

Certainly Warner Brothers’ executives highly welcomed this extremely cost effective spatial economy, since it well99

matched their spending policy.

S e e S i g fried Giedion, Space Time and Architecture: The Growth of a New Tradition. Cambridge, Massachusetts:1 0 0

Harvard University Press 1941 (1949, 1954, 1962, and 5 Ed. 1967), pp. 30&31.th

A mo n g t h e most constructive treatises on the subject was written by John White, The Birth and Rebirth of the1 0 1

Pictorial Space. Faber and Faber 1957 (1967, and 3 Ed., Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvardrd

U n i v ersity Press 1987), pp. 113, 120&125; ‘Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446) “gave considerable attention to the studyo f p e rs p e c t i v e , t h e rules of which are often falsely interpreted; and in this he expended much time until at length hed i s c overed a perfectly correct method, that of taking the ground plan and sections by means of intersecting lines, a trulyi n g e n i o u s t h i n g, and of great utility to the arts of [spatial organization].” Lee Simonson, The Art of Scenic Design: APi c t o r i a l Analysis of Stage Setting and its Relation to the Theatrical Production. New York: Harper & Brothers 1950,p. 1.

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were unusually magnified while others crossed one another reflecting thedynamic of the dance.99

3.2 Stereoscopic Perspective in the Spatial Configuration

Dating back to the early years of the fifteenth-century, a new conception of spacestarted emerging from Florence, Italy. Translating the new concept of space intoa new aesthetic means was achieved by the discovery of perspective. This lawwas emerged as an unquestioned reference in any artistic representation duringthe last five centuries. ‘With the invention of perspective the modern notion ofindividualism found its artistic counterpart. Every element in a perspectiverep resentation is related to the unique point of view of the individualsp ect ator.’ Filippo Brunelleschi, the architect and sculptor, fathered the100

mathematically based perspective formula, with its consistent retrogression ofpainted subjects. Brunelleschi’s revolutionary representation, in his two pictures,projected balanced shortening toward a central point (vanishing point). ‘Thisdirectly controlled the onlooker’s position in relation to the pictured scene, bothin distance and direction.’ The central projection system attempted to link therealistic pictorial space to its beholder’s everyday life. That made the new systema revolutionary concept in art. On the other hand, Leon Battista Alberti was theartist who reduced the mathematical formula of the new pictorial system to thes imp lest form, and made the new spatial discovery available for the averageartist. 101

It was in the seventeenth-century, in which the concept of space became an

Ibid., p. 11.102

Sigfried Giedion, Space Time and Architecture: The Growth of a New Tradition. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard103

University Press 1941 (1949, 1954, 1962, and 5 Ed. 1967), p. 54; pictorial space of the Renaissance resembled the spaceth

o f Eu c l idean geometry, while the absolute, and static entity of the Baroque space relates to Newton; see ibid., pp.435&436.

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York: Bollingen104

Foundation 1960 (2 Ed. New York: Kingsport Press 1961), pp. 250&261.nd

John Koenig, Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art 1942.105

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aesthetic model. In contrast to the Renaissance perspective’s confined range102

of dis t ance and need to have a calculated point of optical arrest, Baroqueperspective is based on an infinite field of vision. We have seen this pictorial103

t echnique earlier in Baroque art. Perspective is a qualified system forrepresenting images that creates illusion for the beholder. Renaissance artists,like those of the Baroque, produced depth cue in their pictorial art through theintroduction of painted ceilings, tiled floors or through architectural forms. Buts t ill, reflected Gombrich, the effect of the cue of depth in the image restsprofoundly on the beholder’s share and hypothesis.104

Baroque Scenographers realized that the projection of a symmetrical plan couldprovide a visually interesting image. The same spatial formula was inherited105

by Hollywood’s Scenographer and cinematographer. Symmetrical compositionnot only proved its narrative success in this spatial organization, but in thecinemat ography, opposing the rules that call for avoiding such monotonousinterpretation. Frederic Hope, Edwin B. Willis and Cedric Gibbons based theirsp atial arrangement of the house’s entrance in Anna Karenina (1935) on adefinite Baroque symmetrical conception. It provided an arresting image on thescreen. William Daniels truthfully preserved this visually interesting mirrorimage as he framed it from a frontal and eye-level angle. When the cameramoved to the side, the image obtained an additional aesthetic quality through theformation of an asymmetrical view of the space.

Up to now, we have examined the formula and background of the staticperspective (prospettiva, or perspectiva) of the pictorial image. When we dealwith the dynamic perspective of moving pictures, the rules must be adjusted tofit ‘the kinetic of perspective construction.’ Motion pictures perspective couldbe introduced to scenographic arrangement in the form of lines, forms diminutionand ot her aesthetic means, which would be integrated with the dynamic

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 53.106

Ibid., p. 48; for more about the cine-perspective’s basic thirteen theorems, with their mathematical fundaments by A.1 0 7

N. Rinin, see ibid., pp. 53&54.

Rudolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University108

of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974), pp. 258, 263&278.nd

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movement of the characters within the scene. Composing a dynamic perspectiveon the screen might be achieved by a character’s movement into the depth of thescene along the main line of vision, or diagonally following a certain line on theframe and toward the main line of vision. All forms of perspectives, including106

t he kinetic, relate to the realistic canons commanding the construction andp erception of the space. ‘The essence of realistic organization of space inrepresentational technique consists in the last resort in transmitting, on the two-dimensional plan of the image, the optical impression of objects distributed atvarying distances from the eyes.’107

Objects gain their three-dimensionality in the spatial configuration byretrogression toward the back of the space, and by gaining some degree ofroundness. Deforming the object’s shape is another qualified effect ofrepresenting a depth cue in the pictorial image. There are virtually no deformedobjects, because this deformation is intended to create an impression of space.Additionally, introducing the effect of steep gradients would give the impressionof extended space by allowing unequal objects to look equal in the space. Cecil108

B. DeM ille recognized the dramatic efficiency of the canonical forms inconstructing and perceiving a scene. In his dynamic composition, with the aideof his associate artists, he applied these rules in nearly every picture he made,beginning with Manslaughter (1922), The Road to Yesterday (1925), and TheKing of Kings (1927). In This Day and Age (1933), he constructed highlynarrative gradient composition as a display effect. In the scene in which CharlesBickford lays prone as a victim of Richard Cromwell and Eddie Nugent, DeMillecons t ructed his characters’ composition with highly artistic calculation. Thegrouping in the front on the right side (Richard Cromwell and Eddie Nugent)were s tanding. The next rows behind them were standing also, but one stephigher and so on, until we see the last characters sitting on top of the semi-staircase. DeMille’s composition followed the steep gradient form. On the lefts ide our reading of the scene started by first scanning a large wagon wheel,followed by the principal character (Charles Bickford) and a few others sittingnext to him, while the last three rows of the composition are standing on a steep

Edward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed.,1 0 9 nd

Designing for Films, 1949), p. 114.

See Louis Giannetti, Understanding Movies, p. 11.110

J o h n White, The Birth and Rebirth of the Pictorial Space. Faber and Faber 1957 (1967, and 3 Ed. Cambridge,1 1 1 rd

Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press 1987), p. 190.

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gradient. This form of steep gradient composition permitted each character in thecomp os it ion to be equally visible to the camera and share the dramaticmoment um of the scene. The composition acquired a definite roundness bymanip ulating the contrast and direction of the scene’s illumination. DeMillerepeated this same Baroque steep gradient formula, with some alteration, in TheCrusades (1935), and in Union Pacific (1939) among others.

When transforming the spatial organization from its three-dimensional form intoa t wo-dimensional image on the screen, the screen image should match theScenographer’s original sketch. This will happen by selecting the proper lens andp lacing t he camera at a certain angle. At the end, the resulting image on thescreen will coincide with the Scenographer’s sketch. Correspondingly, the setshould be truthfully reproduced with all details of the original, i.e., it must beconstructed to match the exact original sketch of the Scenographer and preservethe dramatic quality of the scene. 109

Calling for spatial unity can be maintained with a deep-focus shot (wide-angleshot ), which is understood as a process useful in capturing objects at long,medium, and close distances simultaneously. It sustains the arrangement of themise-en-scenes retrogressively in their spatial relationship. The deep-focus shot’slayering technique signposts the beholder’s attention to read the scene from thefront, to the middle, and to the back. This shot allows the beholder to have the110

option of selecting the relevant aesthetic signs and data desired for someidentification. Bold tonal values or vivid lighting treatments, are both validaesthetic implications for stressing depth cue and roundness in the space. Bythese artistic means, a high contrasted lighting effect differentiates the image’s‘various planes and their spatial relationships even more clearly than the linearpattern with its insistence on sharp angles.’111

In Leonardo Da Vinci’s treatises on the central projection of perspective we read:‘All objects transmit their image to the eye in pyramids,’ and the perceived

J ean Paul Richter (Ed.), The Literary Works of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol. I, London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle1 1 2

& R i v i n g t o n 1 8 83 (2 Ed., The Notebook of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol. 1, New York: Dover Publications 1970), pp.nd

3 4 &5 6 ; t h e novelty of spatial realism in the central projection of Quattrocento art matched the age’s common belief thatre a l i s m e q u als natural and metaphysical canons. The vanishing point reflected the commanding force in God’sg e ometrically based cosmos and man’s ethical obligation in this world. Furthermore, it accommodates physical law asa n o t h e r me a n s of realism; see Samuel Y. Edgerton, Jr., The Renaissance Rediscovery of Linear Perspective. New York:Basic Books 1975, p. 56.

Ernst Hans Gombrich, The “What” and the “How”: Perspective Representation and the Phenomenal World, in:1 1 3

Richard Rudner and Israel Scheffler (Ed.), Logic & Art. Indianapolis and New York: The Bobbs-Merrill 1972, p. 144.

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image in this transmission varies in size according to the eye’s distance from thesubject- the nearer the eye is to the subject , the smaller the image (Illustration50). ‘Perspective,’ remarked Leonardo ‘in dealing with distances, makes use oftwo opposite pyramids, one of which has its apex in the eye and the base asdistant as the horizon. The other has the base toward the eye and the apex on thehorizon.’ In other words, the former pyramid signifies the image of the real world(e.g., landscape, buildings, et al.), whereas the latter is caused by the former.112

Both the relations together with orientation of lines have distinctive meaning inthe system of representation (perspectival projection). In this relationship, theimage’s converging lines ‘towards the vanishing point of the picture areunderstood to be at a right angle to the picture plane, and the orientation of otherforeshortened objects of known shape is seen in relation to this system.’ In the113

Paradise Night Club of Broadway (1929), Charles D. Hall introduced a centralprojection system in his spatial organization (Illustration 51). Hall introducedboth convergent and vertical perspective. The two main towers on both sides ofthe set, and the sides’ various planes are at right angles to the floor’s convergentplan, and are pointing toward the center of the composition. When we look at thevertical perspective’s composition -of the Art Deco skyscrapers from a lowangle- we are captivated by the foreshortening of the skyscrapers’ forms andtonal values. The tall buildings rise up to converge at the vanishing point (Puntodi fuga, point of flight, or Fluchtpunkt) in the sky. Our reading of the set’svocabularies is aided essentially by the contrasted tones of the various planes ofthe set. We are guided by the tonal treatment of the mise-en-scene’s gray seriesin their various planes, and that lends to the Scenographic Space an additionalnovelty of depth cue. The perspectival and tonal retrogression are determinantsin capturing our attention way up in the composition, in the place that is onlysuitable for dreams.

Technically speaking, there are impracticalities in carrying out a life size three-dimensional set directly from the film Scenographer’s two-dimensional sketch.

Edward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed.,1 1 4 nd

D e s i g n i n g for Films, 1949), p. 116; on the perspectival application in the spatial arrangement, see Harry Morgan,Perspective Drawing for the Theatre. New York: Drama Book Specialists 1979.

From the central seat in the movie house, the beholder is privileged with a vivion of grandeur, i.e., ‘the screen might115

b e l i k e n e d t o a plate-glass window through which the observer looks with one eye at the actual scene.’ see Arthur C.H a rd y and R. W. Conant, Perspective Considerations in Taking and Projecting Motion Pictures, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol.12, No. 33 (1928), p. 117; the discussion here is related to the screen properties of the late 1920's.

Marx W. Wartofsky, Pictures, Representation, and the Understanding, in: Richard Rudner and Israel Scheffler (Ed.),1 1 6

Logic & Art. Indianapolis and New York: The bobbs-Merrill 1972, p.158, fn. 7.

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Rep roducing any three-dimensional object is practical on paper, in a term ofplane and elevation related to a certain scale. The set’s dimensions areproportionally constructed in accordance with the scale of the Scenographer’sdrawing, while the latter is proportionally originated. In other words, thet echnical drawing is based on the Scenographer’s sketch from which the setoriginates.114

In the movie auditorium, when the picture is projected on the screen, the leastlevel of perspective distortion in the image will be perceived from only one seat(around the center), which is located on the axis of projection. In viewing a film,the beholder tries unintentionally to have the proper point-of-view with regardto the spatial composition. Suppose the beholder is seated in the central seat withthe correct perspective, he will be viewing the image from the same angle fromwhich the camera recorded the image. Watching the scene from any other pointin the auditorium alters the perspective and causes the beholder to perceive an‘erroneous estimate of his apparent distance from the objects in the picturearea.’ Beside the distortion of the mechanical representation which could115

sometimes be out of the artistic control, there is another form of distortion thatmight be intended in the artistic product. In the artistic representation, obeyingthe rules is not always the best method for capturing the beholder’s attention orattaining the faculty of high aesthetical order. Sometimes breaking the laws oflinear perspective in a given form of art is a matter of choice for the artist. In thisregard, violating the canons of the system of representation by the artist is not tobe unders t ood as a shortcoming in the artist’s ability. It is rather a studiedselection of another system of representation. In the early talkie drama Alibi116

(1929), William Cameron Menzies did not disregard the law of the system ofrepresentation (Illustration 52). Rather, he exaggerated the formation of his linearp ersp ect ive to a degree that exceeded realism. Menzies’ composition of the“police station switch board” called for an impressive exaggeration, to the point

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of having an Expressionistic touch. He structured a linear and overcrowdedcomposition of the characters in the police station switchboard, and sustained thisfeeling by shooting at a low angle, from which the scene should be recorded.Menzies’ envisioning of the scene from a low angle captured the dominance ofthe law enforcement, whose reach was limitless through an impressive systemof communication. Like William Cameron Menzies, Anton Grot was in favor ofthe Germanic Expressionist school, which is the scenographic school most-known in breaking the rules of realism in spatial representation. Anton Grotviolated the canons of representation in Svengali (1931). He caricatured the spacewith forced and cycloramic perspectives, which lent to his setting a great deal ofdepth, and reflected the grotesque spirit of the Victorian fantasy melodrama.

In addition, Hollywood film-makers staged realistic perspective in their dramatictreatments. Cecil B. DeMille, like Mervyn Le Roy and John Ford, all compliedrealistically while dealing with the system of representation. In the prison dramaI Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932), Le Roy’s association with theScenographer Jack Okey delivered a highly perceptual linear perspectivecomposition to the screen (Illustration 53). A replica of the prison camp was builton Warner Brothers’ Ranch. The prison’s interior composition was organized indepth, revealing all the attributes of the linear perspective composition.Sy stematic consistency of the mise-en-scenes was evident in the space, thusemphasizing the brutal life in the prison: the beds and the prisoners’ clothes wereuniform, men were seated in the same position, they hung their shirts in samemanner on the wall, lights were placed in the ceiling one after the other to theend of the prison, and their hands and legs were chained to each other. Everypiece of artistic vocabulary in the scene is converging toward a central point att he end of the hall, where the prison authority is standing by the door andwatching every move in the space with command. This was used to resemble avanishing point, or a central projection of the spatial realism. Busby Berkeleynotably formed linear perspective compositions in his pictures, in his musicalsGold Diggers of 1935 (1935), and Gold Diggers of 1937 (1936). About ahundred girls playing pianos, or marching with drums and flags, marked anotherdynamic and linear perspective in the filmic space.

John Ford was another film-maker who persuasively formed a linear perspectiveon the screen. In Stagecoach (1939), he preserved a classical beauty in the frameat all t imes. Ford’s visualization of Monument Valley was a well-studiedcomp os it ion in terms of depth. Bert Glennon and Ray Binger’s artisticcinematography kept the coach and horses in the foreground to permit the

The house of realism, MGM, occasionally used painted perspective. In the silent drama The Crowd (1928), Arnold1 1 7

Gillespie and Cedric Gibbons introduced painted perspective, with a ceiling to give the impression of a deep and modernc o rri d or. The spatial discourse provided the story with a level of vitality (Illustration 54). Its formula was borrowed fromQ u attrocento pictorial art, and was repeatedly stylized in Hollywood’s spatial composition; in Dodsworth (1936), RichardDay introduced a build perspective in his setting for the Union Motor Company. The modern building’s facade was well-v i s i b l e from the office of Sam Dodsworth (Walter Huston), the owner of the automobile factory. Richard Day succeededre ma rk a b l y i n reflecting the capitalist idol mingled with the modern Bauhaus style. By introducing this form of forcedp e rs p e ctive, Day’s set created the impression of an empire of fortune, i.e., in showing the building’s mass far larger thanit actually was (Illustration 55).

D u ri n g this period, the editing technique was handled as practical rather than aesthetical process; see Thomas W.1 1 8

B o h n a n d Richard L. Srtromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of the Motion Pictures. PortWashington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 217.

See Gordon Wiles, Small Sets: Maximum Production Value with Minimum Cost, in: A. C., Vol. 13, No. 5 (September119

1932), p. 11; James Wong Howe, Visual Suggestion Can Enhance “Rationed” Sets, in: A. C., Vol. 23, No. 6 (June 1942),pp. 246&247.

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beholder’s eye to scan the scene’s artistic vocabulary from the front to the back.According to the law of the screen’s perspective, the wagon was rollingrelatively diagonally into the depth of the frame and was guiding our eye to thevastness of scene’s space, which extended to the horizon. John Ford won criticalpraise for his composition involving endless depth extended into the desert andmountains, rather than being dependent on the spoken lines.117

During the transitional period, due to the camera’s confinement in its placing, itt ransmitted single-perspective filming. To form multi-perspective scenes,Hollywood employed multiple camera shooting. One camera was used for close-ups, another for medium shots, and one for long shots. This continuity-bridgingt echnique saved Hollywood from a monotonous representational treatmentduring the emergence of sound. Still, perspective has many vital tools for118

sustaining the narrative action on the screen. Based on aesthetical visualizationand its significance in film practice, Fox’s film Scenographer Gordon Wilessuggested renaming the scenographic and cinematographic departments at thestudio. These departments’ names should, according to him, ask the question:“How will it show up on the screen?,” because a setting must fill the screen witha high dramatic efficiency in order to be devotedly viewed by its beholder.Accomplishing this aesthetic paradigm can be approached by utilizing the canonsof spatial organization, including perspectival and cinematographic technique.In doing this, noted Gordon Wiles, the set would appear greater in value than itactually is, and its expenditure would be definitely lower at the same time. In119

summary, perspective in film scenography is a system of representation. A well-

D . B o rdwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Film1 2 0

Production to 1960, p. 214.

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arranged perspectival composition creates a convincing illusion of extendedsp ace, and lures the beholder into the screen story. By introducing centralprojection into the spatial structurization, the artistic setting of the motion picturebecame a form of expressive realism. By applying the canonical forms ofperspective to the Scenographic Space, film-makers attained an unquestionableaesthetical stylization of spatial realism during the course of the 1930's. This inturn was, and is, a qualified technique in creating a highly perceptual narrativestream between the scene and its beholder.

3.3 Mobile Compositional Image Framing

During the primitive-period of film-making, framing the scene was conductedfrom a distance similar to that between the stage and the beholder’s seat in thetheater. The scenic box, in which the action proceeded, rarely connoted a spacebehind or to the sides of the set. During the transition period (1909-1916), thisdistance was adjusted, shifting the beholder’s seat closer to the action. Sometechnical and artistic factors contributed to this process, including: ‘the stagingof the action in depth, changes in [scenographic organization], considerabledepth of field, and directional lighting.’ Mostly the technological120

improvements (such as improved lenses, and new lighting units) governed theway of framing a motion picture composition. Artistic modulations only cameafter the camera allowed film-makers to stage their composition either in depthor, in later stages, on both sides of the screen. How to place a scene and itsdynamic action within the frame was a question continually challenging film-makers from the early days of film, because the way of placing a filmic image int he frame would dictate the action’s dramatic means and quality, and woulddistinguish one model of filming from another.

A motion picture’s composition means capturing a certain image inside arectangle frame similar to that of pictorial art. Yet the dynamic properties of amotion composition separate it from the static momentous expressed by thepainter. The dynamic quality of film composition causes the content of the filmicframe t o change from one moment to the next, which forms the base forconstructing a filmic composition. Its boundaries are defined by the frame. Thisrequires film-makers to arrange the screen composition in a concept based on a

Edward Carrick, Art and Design in the British Film. London: Dobson 1948, p. 8.121

35mm = 1.378 inches wide; see John Arnold, Shooting the Movies, in: Nancy Naumburg, We Make the Movies. New122

Y o rk : W . W . N o rton 1937, p. 147; ‘There are three smaller-sized standards for amateur and home-movie film: 16 mm.w i de, 8 mm. and in Europe, 9.5 mm. wide.’Ibid., p. 148, fn*; Hollis Frampton stated: “There is, our 1.33 to 1 rectangle,i t w i l l t o l e ra t e precious little tampering with at all.” This was the ratio of the so- called “academy frame”; see StephenHeath, Narrative Space, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Autumn 1976), p. 82.

Ernst Lindgren, The Art of The Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, p. 116; to stress a horizontal accent in The1 2 3

Bi r t h o f a Nation (1915), Griffith masked the upper and the lower parts of the frame. In Intolerance (1916), he maskedboth sides of the frame to highlight the height of the walls as a soldier falls down from the spire bulwark of Babylon.

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realistic form of movement. Frame and the physical dimensions of the film are121

related closely to the aesthetical outlook and projection of the image onto thescreen, and these proportions were established in the early days of the movies.Working separately, and not having knowledge of each other’s work, Edison andLumiere adapted almost the same frame and film dimensions in their pictures.Their defined frame proportion -35 millimeter film- became a worldwide normin the production of motion pictures. Thanks to this standardization, a picturep roduced in any country can be projected anywhere in the world withouttechnical limitations. 122

Based on aesthetical necessities, clear back from the silent film era, there havebeen attempts to alter the fixed dimensions of the screen’s frame , as horizontalor vertical composition framing required such alteration. Griffith tried this bycovering the upper, lower or sides of the frame to stress a certain form ofcomp os itional framing. Circular framing was carried out for focusing theattention on the center of the action. In a conference held in Hollywood at theAcademy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in 1930, Sergei MikhailovichEisenstein suggested the use of ‘a circular frame into which rectangles ofdifferent proportions could be introduced to meet the needs of different types ofcomposition.’ This suggestion did not receive enough popularity to survive. Yetthe accepted norm for framing did not change, continuing the proportion of fourto three.123

In an article in JSMPE published in May of 1938, it was stated that screen sizedid not occupy the beholder’s field of vision. Black screen masking and thelight ing level of the walls and ceiling surfaces which surrounded the screen,caused an unsuitable level of lighting with regard to the screen image’sillumination, and distracted the beholder. To remedy this, B. Schlanger and J.Gilston devised a screen synchrofield system. The new screen system proposed

Cf. B. Schlanger, A Method of Enlarging the Visual Field of the Motion Picture, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 30, No. 51 24

(May 1938), pp. 503-508.

See Stephen Heath, Narrative Space, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Autumn 1976), p. 82.125

See ibid., pp. 84&85.126

Rudolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University127

of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974), p. 239.nd

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lighting the marginal border of the screen in a way which harmonized with theillumination of the screen’s image. Bridging smoothly between the screen’ssurrounding and its image sustained the narrative action on the screen and invitedthe beholder to be involved in the space presented on the screen. 124

Motion picture spatial organization is structured within the limits of the frame,and the composition’s limits are defined according to the proportion of the frame.If the canvas’ framing is variably produced, the photoplay’s is not- it is confinedby its standardized norm. Any alteration to the frame’s academic ratio (1.33 to1) -such as masking any of its borders- violates the rule, and is usuallydisapproved of. Preserving the frame ratio is highly recommended. After the125

screen hosts the frame (image), it lends it its flatness and makes it ready for thebeholder to perceive. From a psychoanalytical point-of-view, this process ‘hascome to stress the dream as itself projected on a screen.’ In other words, thescreen forms the ground for the projected images to rest upon. This projectionprovides the foundation ‘of the spatial articulations a film will make, the start ofits composition.’ 126

Framing canon emerged from Renaissance art, in which altarpieces were framedby pilasters and lintels. The function of compositional framing, related RudolfArnheim, is connected to the psychology of the composition. Pictorial spaceseparates itself from the wall and constitutes its own visual world, maintainedArnheim, and a distinct visual differentiation became essential to separate theimage’s composition from its outside surroundings. Framing the image meansdefining the composition’s limits, but not the end of the pictorial space. Andre127

Bazin perceived the frame from a paralleled point-of-view. For Bazin, the screenedges are not the framers of the screen image. They are a form of masking thatallows only some of the reality to be visible on the screen. If a pictorial framepolarizes the space to the inner of the image, the screen extends it. ‘A frame is

C f. A n dre Bazin, Qu-est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 ( Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What is1 2 8

Cinema? Vol. 1, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1967), p. 166.

S e e D . B o rdwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Film1 2 9

Pr o d u c t i o n t o 1960, p. 304; reframing means slight panning or tilting the camera to center a moving character in thefra me . . Ev e ry picture produced in Hollywood attained some form of this practice. After 1929, one in six shots utilizedreframing technique at least once. Ibid., p. 51.

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centripetal, the screen centrifugal.’ 128

Having converted to sound, Hollywood used a reframing technique to substitutequick cutting. It preserved the centralization of a moving figure in the frame.129

In the scenographic arena, we may witness, from the late Twenties throughoutthe Thirties, that Hollywood Scenographers borrowed pilasters surroundingaltarpieces from the Renaissance framing system, and placed them visibly in theback of the Scenographic Space. Additionally, Hollywood film-makers took fulladvantage of pilasters and lintels as a static frame for a dynamic composition.This classic system of framing was borrowed for the bath of The MagnificentFlirt (1928). The same framing technique applies to the characters’ compositionof “Singing in the Bathtub” in The Show of Shows (1929). Characters are singing,while they are framed within altarpieces and the lintel at the end of the bath. TheScenographic Spaces’ lintel was raised from the floor to be reached by staircasesfrom the right and left. Unavoidably, this framing technique guides the attentionto the composition’s center of interest. Hollywood Scenographic stylization wentfurther in the inspiration of the Renaissance framing system to the extent ofcopying, with some additional accentuation of the Moderne. This was evident inShow People (1928), Interference (1929), and most notably in “The Piccolino”night club in Top Hat (1935). Hollywood realized the narrative quality of thescenographic framing system when applied to moving or stationary subjects.Framing within portals, arches, and doorways reveal another secret ofHolly wood’s conventional narrative of spatial stylization. It was a traditioncontinued from the silent film era. This visually effective framing formula wasmanifested in William Cameron Menzies’ The Thief of Bagdad (1924). Menzies’planning of arches, portals, and doorways induced a remarkably narrativeframing, as it suggested a frame within the frame. Anton Grot used the framingsystem in his sets by introducing doors and hallways into Mystery of the WaxMuseum (1933), and Captain Blood (1935).

Screen images are separated from their surrounding of the movie theater by the

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 42&44.130

See ibid., pp. 44&47.131

Rudolf Arnheim, Film as Art. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1957, pp. 73&74.132

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frame of the screen. One framed composition cannot be regarded as independentwork from the whole body of the film. ‘A single-frame image from a movie isnecessarily an artificially frozen moment’ and it is one comprising the whole thatassembles the body of the film. Therefore, it cannot be separated from its contextof the spatial and temporal continuos. ‘For critical purposes, it’s sometimesnecessary to analyze a still frame in isolation, but the viewer ought to make dueallowances for the dramatic and temporal contexts of the image.’ The frame’s130

horizontal and vertical ratio acts as consistent guide to the beholder. This carriesdecisive meaning for the dynamic composition, as the composition is structuredto fit within the frame, and not the frame to match the composition. The framedefines the composition limits and disregards non-related cues; it contains onlythe relevant aesthetic signs of the composition, whose organization is governedby its idealistic order. Film-makers take advantage of the frame’s technicalaspect particularly in close-ups, recovering what they may not have captured inlong or medium shots. Louis Giannetti observed: ‘the frame is likened awindow’- the beholder is seated in front of and curiously trying to intervene ‘intothe intimate details of the character’s lives.’ What lays within the film frame131

limits is visible, and what lays without is not. This challenged film authors toarres t only one image from a series of unlimited images of real life. As aformative and perspectival tool, the image’s selection should provide specificdramatic assurance. Arnheim sees, also, in the screen frame’s horizontal-verticalratios, a reference to the shot’s same accentuated lines. A diagonal move, or linewit hin the frame, would obviously sit in contrast to the frame’s rectangularfeatures.132

John D. Elms, an American, introduced a two-lens camera that operated with two35 millimeter films. In 1922, Elms projected two frames side by side, yet hecould not join the two frames smoothly together. In 1937 a far advanced processwas devised by Henri Chretien, and the twin projector system was operated withChretien’s CinemaScope lenses. It took Hollywood a decade and a half to adaptChretien’s lenses but not so his twin projectors, which created the largest andwides t screen dimensions since the Cineorama- the double screen and twoprojectors system were initially proposed for the exhibition of Gone With the

Kenneth MacGowan, The Wide Screen of Yesterday and Tomorrow, in: The Quarterly of Film, Radio and Television,133

Vol. 11, No. 3 (Spring 1957), pp. 226&227.

Herb A. Lightman, Shooting “Oklahoma!” in Todd-Ao, in: A. C., Vol. 36, No. 4 (April 1955), p. 210; Todd-Ao: the134

t e rm i s a b b reviated from the process originator’s name Michael Todd, and the American Optical Company, who workedo n developing the wide-screen system; see Arthur Rowan, Todd-Ao--Newest Wide-Screen System, in: A. C., Vol. 35,No. 10 (October 1954), p. 494.

Herb A. Lightman, Shooting “Oklahoma!” in Todd-Ao, in: A. C., Vol. 36, No. 4 (April 1955), p. 243.135

Gayne Rescher, Wide Angle Problems in Wide Screen Photography, in: A. C., Vol. 37, No. 5 (May 1956), p. 301.136

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Wind (1939). The burning Atlanta scenes were shot with the two cameras system,but last minutes changes by the picture’s financiers kept the process from comingto life, who assumed that the picture would succeed without such projection.133

In the early 1950's, the emergence of the wide-screen system required newdefinition and technique in the representational treatment.“The Todd-Ao” ultra-wide screen format created immense problems to the cinematography. Wide-screen format offered too much to look at in the frame. In this, preserving thefocus of interest in the scene became the chief concern. Focusing the attentionon a particular subject in the scene was sometimes achieved by lighting itdistinctively compared with the rest of the scene, or by placing a large object onone side of the frame occupying good portion of the front. Robert Surtees usedthis in Oklahoma (1955). In addition, Surtees avoided centering a figure in themiddle of the frame, as he paid attention to the general balance of thecomp os it ion. Reframing was replaced by letting characters move within theframe instead of following them. Todd-Ao lenses magnified the image and134

made them sharper, but this in turn created problems in painting the set, andmake-up. Painting the set required exhaustive care in preserving an authenticoutlook-if such preparations were overlooked, the effect would be visible to thecamera. 135

When cinematographing a composition dominated by horizontal lines with anext reme wide angle lens, the resulting image on the screen would showdistortions in the lines around the center of the frame. These lines would bindtoward the center as they arrived at the edges of the screen. The only line thatwould not undergo any distortion was that of the center. Reducing the horizontaldistortion in the wide screen system may be achieved by shooting the image fromthree quarters of an angle; when arranging the set in depth, wide screen distortioncan be overcome by bending the setting’s lines toward the camera. The wide-136

screen system imposed demanding restrictions on Hollywood’s spatial code.

Andrew Sarris (Ed.), Interview with Film Directors. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill 1967, pp. 14&15; it is137

noteworthy to remember that an average picture constituents vary between 120,000 to 150,000 frames.

Cf. Stephen Heath, Narrative Space, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Autumn 1976), p. 85; ‘In the late 1930's and early1 3 8

1 9 40's, the average shot length of a full-length Hollywood film has been estimated at about 9-10 seconds, but thatfragmentation is the condition of a fundamental continuity.’ Ibid., pp. 86&87.

Ezra Goodman, Production Designing, in: A. C., Vol. 26, No. 3 (March 1945), p. 83.139

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Film Scenographers had to shift in their spatial configuration toward an accentof horizontality, in order to match balance in the ultra-wide frame format. Fittingt he composition into the frame was a challenge between placing much of thelarge mise-en-scenes in the front, and keeping persuasive narrative quality in theimage. This led to some divergence of attention from the dramatic actionpresented on the large screen format.

As result of the projection process, each frame recorded on the film matrixoccupies the screen for one twenty-fourth of a second. Correspondingly twenty-four images per second are projected on the screen, forming the essentialcomponents of a film. Every single frame of the entire film is separated from itsneighbor by black strip; each frame does not bear a resemblance to its adjacent’sspecification. Thus, their sequential flux invokes the illusion of moving pictures.Due to the human eye’s shortcomings in recording similar and separated imagesin sequence, the mechanical projection found a free path to the naked eye for themotion picture’s existence. This mechanism of the projection process ensures137

that the screen is constantly filled with frames or images. With their presence, thenarrational stream is active, and in their absence the screen is “empty.”138

Some film Scenographers pre-staged their scenographic compositions in theirown unique way. William Cameron Menzies was one of them. He integrated theimage frame as a part of the composition. In this framing technique, Menzies didnot center the composition within the frame. Alternatively, his compositionexceeded the limits of the frame. The fact that the master did not considerfollowing the rules only to create a well-composed image, is somethingexceptional. For Menzies the dramatic reason governs the shot. Every camerasetup must provide in one way or another some dramatic quality to the pictureas a whole. In his sketches for Bulldog Drummond (1929), and The Greatest139

Gift [1945?], Menzies broke the conventional rules of framing a mobilecomp osition. He introduced a dramatic framing technique in the close-ups,preserving the scene’s simplicity. Sometimes Menzies placed two thirds of a

Arthur Edwin Krows, The Talkies. New York: Henry Holt 1930, p. 161; Nathan Juaran’s sketches for Harvey (1950),140

re v e a l e d compositional balance with only one visible character (Jimmy Stewart), and reserved place for the invisiblera b b i t (H a rvey). William H. Daniels preserved this framing balance, when Daniels treated Harvey as if he was visible inthe scene; see Unique Photographic Assignment, in: I. P., Vol. 22, No. 7 (July 1950), pp. 5&6.

S ee David Bordwell, Impolded Space: Film Style in the Passion of Jeanne d’Arc, in: Ben Lawton and Janet Staiger1 4 1

(Ed . ) , Film Studies Annual. West Lafayette: Purdue University 1976, pp. 99&100; L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies,p. 48.

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p ort rait ure, or head, or even a portion of a body in the frame and the restremained off-frame. In the late nineteen-nineties, modern film-makers adaptedthis off-framing technique as a new aesthetical means on the television screen forthe commercial world (U. S. West Communications, American Express FinancialAdvisor among others).

Comp osit ion limits are the cinematographer’s chief concern while framing acharacter’s composition. Reserving space is required to keep the subject wellframed when the subject moves or stands within the frame. Additionally, a140

space must be reserved for off-frame characters to occupy their designated place,when the character enters the set.

3.3.1 The Screen’s Surface Data

A motion picture’s composition is structured according to certain formulaefollowed by film-makers. Correspondingly, the screen surface is divided intoterritories varying in their importance according to their location on the screen.Overall, the focus of attention is needed for the central portion of the upper halfof t he screen. From this portion of the screen emerges dominant visualinformation, which elevates this center to the level of being a dramatic norm.This is so, because the beholder is expecting significant visual information toemerge from there. Realist film-makers use this portion of the screen for centraldominance, as it does not itself call for attention or distract from the action.141

Other film theories suggest that a balance in the compositional structure on thescreen could be served by placing the subject of interest a little off-center, moreto the right and above the center of the screen, and afterwards, ‘weighting thesmaller segment with more content than the larger segment.’ A close-up of afigure should be framed slightly next to the upper portion and to the right of thescreen’s center. Furthermore, cinematographers prefer the diagonal axis on thescreen for its narrative quality. It begins at the lower left corner and goes up to

Le w i s H erman, A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and Television Films. New York and1 4 2

Scarborough: New American Library 1952, p. 256.

It is logical that a medium shot projects a person’s head almost around the top of the screen-in this case the shot is1 4 3

not based on the symbolic structurization of the frame; L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 49&50.

C f. Julian Hochberg, The Psychophysics of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 10 (1962),1 4 4

p p . 4 9 &50; earlier we have already seen how a well organized image’s composition can guide the beholder’s eye to thefocus of concern on the screen.

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the right corner of the screen.142

The upper part of the frame invokes dominance and suggests strength. A figureoccup y ing this section of the screen would have dominance over the visualvocabularies beneath, which would look subordinate to that position (such as inp ict ures of authorities). The lower part of the frame calls for a sense ofsubordination and risk. It automatically reflects the character’s dramatic statusin the picture. If a subject is placed in the lower part of the screen, it will bedominated by another of the upper parts or the middle, even if these parts of thescreen are empty, since we are waiting for them to be filled. The right, like theleft side of the frame, suggest unimportance, as they lay away from the focus ofinterest. Distribution of the aesthetic vocabularies on the screen, such as those143

mentioned, is one of the artistic tools employed by film-makers to make theirproducts attractive to the average perceiver. In this relation, artists believe intheir ability and tools to direct the gaze of the beholder to any portion of theirimage. Achieving this might be served by the introduction of a linearcomp os ition and other aesthetic means in the artistic product. ‘Intuitiveprescriptions’ substantiated, however, a general validation of the fact that mostpeople were aware of that artistic concept, which commands their attention to acertain point of interest on the image. 144

Cinematographic representation can only read the surface data of theScenographic Space. This is rated as a primary concern in film production, forone by the Scenographer and for another by the cinematographer. In this, we arenot addressing the psychological means and content symbolism of the mise-en-scenes’ dramatic significance in the set. This will be addressed later (Chapter 5).We are meeting here, only, with the textural treatment and form’srepresentation, which contributes to the core of the motion picture visualization.In Broadway (1929), for instance, in the set’s surface data we read intuitively thelines pointing toward a convergent point of interest. The composition’s lines andt onal values of contrasted lights, shades and gray tones are commanding our

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 50.145

See ibid., pp. 44&45.146

In these early days of film-making, placing the camera at a height compared to that of the beholder’s eye-level seated147

on the orchestra floor in the playhouse is more akin to the stage-beholder relationship. ‘This was a good deal as they usedto guage painted scenery from the king’s box in European playhouses of the eighteenth century.’ See Arthur EdwinKrows, The Talkies. New York: Henry Holt 1930, p. 158.

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attention to the point which Charles D. Hall want us to look at, as did Menziesand Grot in their pictures. This surface data combined with the form are whatlends to scenographic stylization the term we classify Moderne, or periodscenographic stylization.

3.3.2 Horizon Eye-Line

A compositional arrangement of the shot can be significantly affected by thelevel of the horizon line and the viewing angle of the image. Whether a real orillusory horizon line, it has dramatic significance in relation to the angle ofviewing the image, and to introducing the cue of depth to the image. In additionto its relationship with the horizon line, the viewing angle with regard to theimage relates immediately to the degree of distortion that will affect the image’sp rop ert ies. Yet the height of the horizon line will decide whether the imagedetails are to be illustrated below or above it. In a long-shot, the camera angle145

determines the height of the horizon line. A ground-level camera angle does nothave a horizon line as it is established below the lower edge of the frame. A highangle calls for the horizon line to be placed in the image, and extreme high angle(bird’s-eye view) will cause the disappearance of the line outside the top limit ofthe frame. This reflects the dependence of the horizon line on the viewing angle,and consequently on the organization of the screen composition. 146

No matter what the principal character’s position might be, sitting, standing, orlaying down, the level of the camera lens should be pointed at the eye-level of thatcharacter to secure effective pictorial communication between the scene and itsbeholder (eye-to-eye contact). During the youthful days of American film, thecamera lens was positioned at a height assumed to be the beholder’s eye-level,while sitting on the orchestra floor in the auditorium. This suggested eye-level didnot create for the beholder a proper illusion since the beholder was not lookinginto the characters’ eye, and their attention was instead focused ‘from the thirdbutton of [the character’s] vest.’ During the early days of sound, the camera147

Ibid., pp. 158&159. 148

‘Th e g eneral adoption of the reverse field and of the ‘correct’ eyeline match were part of the last, most crucial and1 4 9

mo st difficult stage in the process of breaking down the barrier of ‘alienation’ which, . . . informed the relationshipb e t w e e n t h e p rimitive film and its essentially working-class audience.’ Cf. Noel Burch, To the Distant Observer: Formand Meaning of the Japanese Cinema. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1979, pp. 65&66.

Rudolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles 1954 (2150 nd

Ed . 1 9 7 4 ), p . 287; the central projection’s realism in Renaissance pictorial art revealed this eye-line match technique atits best. The vanishing point is situated in the center of the horizon line, and the image composition is usually taken froma mid- distance in relation to the beholder’s eye.

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recorded a scene from a fixed position in the soundproof shed, at a height of aseated person . Progressively, two cameras were employed, one for a high andanot her for a low angle recording the scene at the same time. Still, it took148

Holly wood the first two decades of its history to formulate the “rules”ofcont inuity cutting, and to overcome the distracting effect produced by thejuxtaposing of diverse consecutive “prosceniums.” Bridging smoothly betweentwo dissimilar scenes was achieved by the introduction of ‘exits and entranceswith matching directions from shot to shot.’ After cultivating this technique ‘itwas ultimately established that two opposite segments of pro-filmic space couldbe presented successively in the same screen rectangle (reverse-field cut).’Corresp ondingly, in the silent film, through eye-line matching technique, thebeholder worked as a bridge for communicating the character’s line of vision asthey interacted. Eye-line matching technique was regarded by Noel Burch as, ‘theveritable keystone of the “Hollywood system,’ and by the end of the First WorldWar, it was Hollywood’s final technique to be developed into artisticconvention. 149

By standing at a correct distance from the image and matching the beholder’s eye-line wit h the vanishing point on the horizon line, the image will be correctlyperceived, while the distortion of objects is minimized and the depth cuerep roduction is at its best. Eye-line matching in representational treatment150

p rovides the beholder with sufficient information regarding the spatialorganization. It convincingly induces a scenographic realism, and this viewingangle of the narrative action is used by film-makers as a narrative vehiclesustaining their dramatization. Howard Hawk realized the narrative quality ofplacing the camera at eye-level. Hawk’s violent action in and brutal accentuationof his scenes were distinctively captured by placing the camera at eye-level.Generally, Hawk took his composition from mid-range shot, to preserve a correct

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 48&49.151

Ibid., pp. 49&50; the same aspect was viewed from a technical point-of-view by Louise Bowen Ballinger,1 5 2

Perspective/Space and Design. New York: Reinhold Book Corporation 1969, p. 56.

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eye-line match with the scene’s center of interest, which allowed the director tokeep the beholder involved within the action. Hawk’s Scarface (1932)demonstrates this representational technique at its best.

When arriving at the vanishing point at the horizon line, every line and form oft he scene would undergo a certain diminution. Supposing the perspective’svanishing point matched the center of the horizon line, the composition wouldeffect a symmetrical and central projection. It is the same when shooting a151

filmic scene from a central axis point coinciding with the point of convergence onthe horizon line- the screen composition is symmetrical. In the opening scene ofThe Wizard of Oz (1939), Harold Rosson was fully aware of this viewingtechnique. Rosson’s composition paralleled Hobbema’s compositional treatment,“Avenue at Middleharnis.” By Rosson’s selection of a low horizon line and bykeeping his vanishing point matching the center of the illusory horizon line, theimage details were situated within the upper part of the screen’s image, as Rossonwished to prepare us for the anticipation of the cloudy sky and the impendingtornados from it. The convergent projection of the screen image was symmetrical,and it s road was extending to the center point of the horizon. The road wasdefined by irregular wood poles demarcating its right side, and by fence-likepalisades on the left. All the spatial vocabularies pointed retrogressively towardthe vanishing point on the horizon. The Wizard of Oz preserved aestheticalconsistency in its representational treatment, which enabled the picture to receivean Academy Award Nomination for Best Picture.

Supposing the vanishing point is situated more to the left or right of the center ofthe horizon line, we can then discern an asymmetrical view of the object in itsspatial organization. By placing the vanishing point to match the eye-level, theperspective will have a realistic outcome. Assuming the horizon line is loweredand thus the vanishing point, then the image details in the lower portion of theimage are intensively foreshortened. When the vanishing point and the horizonline are both elevated, the image’s upper portion obtains perspectival reduction.Finally, taking the central point of convergence to a higher level will provide thebeholder with a bird’s-eye perspective. Highlighting these rules of placing the152

vanishing point and the horizon line in the image will equip the reader with new

See Paul T. Frankl, Form and Re-Form: A Practical Handbook of Modern Interiors. New York: Harper & Brothers1 5 3

1930, p. 51.

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tools for reading the scene’s aesthetic vocabularies more effectively.

When treating variable aspects of horizontality in the artistic interpretation andmarking its visual effects, it is necessary to pay closer attention to the actualhorizontal effect when it is introduced in a spatial form. It is interesting to see howthis might have affected the Hollywood spatial code during the sound decade. Inthe 1930, Paul T. Frankl observed that the horizontal accent attended every aspectof American life. ‘The horizontal line is expressive of the style of today’, Franklexplained. ‘Our civilization’, he maintained, ‘is attuned to the horizontal line. ...Our apartments are horizontal projections of the brownstone-front dwelling ofother years.’ By then horizontalism manifested itself in various aspects of life inthe U. S. It accompanied nearly every modern technological and artistic ideal.153

It started in the world of architecture where architects accentuated their buildingswit h a form of horizontality. In America, Joseph Urban called for this veryobviously in his architecture (Max Reinhardt Theater, and the New School forSocial Research in New York), and Frank Lloyd Wright’s horizontal architectureaccentuations from his early architectural period (Illustration 56)were apparent.Ludwig Mies van der Rohe from the Bauhaus and Le Corbusier in Paris tailoredt heir own styles, and introduced an accent of horizontality into their works.Seemingly Hollywood was more than eager to adapt horizontalism into the spatialorganization. Horizontality in the three-dimensional art form on the screen wasprobably of most interest to Cedric Gibbons at Metro. Gibbons inspired landmarkhorizontal accentuation in John Rarick’s (Richard Bennett) New Yorker office inFive and Ten (1931). The vast window of the office was a direct inspiration fromt he Int ernational Style (Illustration 57). Horizontal and vertical lines (grid)marked t he window’s enormous size and extended the vision to the illusorysky line behind the New Yorker skyscrapers. Its bottom stressed the boldesthorizontal accent of the set and granted a look of grandeur to the outside world.Gibbons stressed John Rarick’s social position and wealth by the panoramicvision possible through the commanding beauty of the window, and byunderlining the American ideal of skyscrapers that reached the horizon. Gibbonsdetermined that every object in the set should stay low, keeping the extendedvision unblocked and open. The large window with its horizontal accentuationswas an essential narrative means contributing to the success of the story. InFemale (1933), Jack Okey utilised the same concept of industrialism, wealth, andopulence in his set, and also a similar look at the horizon line. All was visible

Sheldon Cheney and Martha Candler Cheney, Art and the Machine: An Account of Industrial Design in the 20th-1 5 4

Century America. New York: Whittlesey House 1936, p. 190.

In t he Streamlined Art Moderne circular tubes of Pyrex soft light fixtures softened the interior, as the curved walls1 5 5

softened the exterior; see Donald J. Bush, The Streamlined Decade. New York: George Braziller 1975, p. 138.

See Martin Battersby, The Decorative Twenties. New York: Walker 1969, Part 2. 156

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from the office of Alison Drake (Ruth Chatterton), the president of the automobilecompany. A horizontal accent starts by the office desk, the window frames it andext ends it to the horizon. Jack Okey balanced the set’s horizontal lines withvertical elements, such as the factory chimneys and zigzag ironwork of the pylonin t he background. The scenes of the heroine’s house were shot at the EnnisHouse in Hollywood Hills, which was planned by Frank Lloyd Wright himself.

The architectural unity of the building extended into the interior organization. Yetin this organic unity, the interior interpretation is appreciated as a flexible spatialcomposition. By the mid 1930's, horizontalism in architectural convention wasrespected as an international affaire, and this made interior composition an artisticdeliberation in horizontalism. In the industrial world, however, streamlined154

products carried distinctive horizontal accents, where the products of the Modernewere featured with bands that were wrapped around them. In short, a horizontal155

accent has its dramatic significance in lending to the screen image its aestheticquality. Only the screen story and its narrative action regulate the positioning ofthe horizon line and its location on the screen; introducing a high or low cameraangle orthodoxy in the screen image will lead to a confusion in the perceptualprocess, because the image will not suggest an illusory or true horizon line. Ascreen image lacking its horizon line would look empty, hanging in the air. Itwould be elusive, and would not provide sufficient data related to the setting’scomposition. Hollywood of the 1930's employed the horizon concept as anothernarrative vehicle for serving realistic spatial narrative, and most importantly, asa safe port for orienting the beholder to the set and its action.

3.4 Interior Scenographic Arrangement

Since the early decades of the twentieth-century in America, stylization in theinterior space was in search of its own identity, in order to escape the Europeaninfluence. Paul T. Frankl and Joseph Urban were among the pioneers who strivedfor the independent and modern American movement in the living space.156

Lewis W. Physioc, The Scenic Artist: The Cameraman’s New Ally, in: I. P., Vol. 8, No. 2 (March 1936), p. 3.157

Joseph Urban, Real Screen Drama Greatest Need, Declares Joseph Urban [undated papers from Columbia1 5 8

University: Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Joseph Urban’s Collection.]

Gordon Wiles, Imagination in Set Design, in: A. C., Vol. 13, No. 3 (July 1932), pp. 8&9; in this early stage after the159

a d v e n t o f talkies Gordon Wiles’ scenographic effort took about six months to be completed. The setting space coveredtwo sound stages on Fox’s lot forming an idealistic western town; see The New York Times (May 22, 1932).

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Forming its own American style in spatial organization was not only limited to thefield of interior scenography, but also merged further to meet with Hollywood’sscenographic style, and its self-governing form was far from anycontemporaneous control.

After the introduction of dialogue into the moving picture, film production onlocation faced new challenges. New complications were looming: time delays andgreat expenses were among the noticed symptoms. To overcome these hindrances,many exterior productions were taking place under controlled conditions, i.e., ont he sound stage. In the new production system every artistic possibility wasexercised to improve the set’s visualization. Under such an artificial approach inthe interior, the film Scenographer ‘is allowed a wide range in designing manyart istic effects of lighting, composition and atmospheric character not alwaysfound, in nature, to fit the story.’ Constructing the set indoors on the sound157

s t age permits maximum artistic control, because the yellowish outdoor lightcannot always provide the Scenographer with the desired artistic effect. “Naturecan’t take care of the camera, but I [Joseph Urban] can.”158

Fox’s Scenographer, Gordon Wiles, could not have reached that samescenographic quality in The First Year (1932), had he staged his sets outdoors.Wiles’ intention was to arrange an idealistic middle-western village rather thana realistic one. Under these conditions, he had great artistic freedom to achieve hisidealistic vision of a small western town on the sound stage. Like Gordon Wiles,the cinematographer Hal Mohr appreciated this artistic autonomy on the soundstage. It projected an artistic mood onto the image that matched Mohr’s preferencefor answering the what, the how, and when. Directed by this conditionedartificiality, the production team was able to work without the interruptions ofext raneous noises or adverse weather delays. In other words, the newly-159

cont rived scenographic ability to work under controlled conditions indoors,allowed further dramatic possibilities in the art of the setting, which was difficultto execute on a real exterior location. This matched well with the Golden Age’s

C f. Ernst Hans Gombrich, ‘Style’, in: David L. Sills (Ed.), International Encyclopedia of Social Science, Vol. 15,1 6 0

New York: The Macmillan 1972, p. 355.

See Oliver Smith, Musical Comedy Design for Stage and Screen, in: Orville K. Larson (Ed.), Scene Design for Stage161

and Screen. East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University Press 1961, p. 193.

Gabe Essoe and Raymond Lee, DeMille: The Man and his Pictures. New York: A. B. Barnes 1970, pp. 58ff.162

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modern scenographic stylization, specifically after the advent of talking pictures.

Technological advancement equips the society that develops it with a kind ofnobility, that will influence various aspects of the society’s way of life Inspired160

by up-to-date technological solutions devised by American society, Hollywoodcreat ed new and distinctive forms of the Moderne on the screen. Films werecalling for leading modernization and culture in their scenographic stylizations.This novelty of modernism manifested itself from the late 1920's throughout the1930's on the American screen.

Prior to the emergence of television, Hollywood moguls regarded the use of waterin their pictures as something glamorous, and they believed that it would creategreat box-office revenues. Using the human element surrounded by a glamorous161

background, acting in a senseless but always delighted manner, was the life-bloodof Cecil Blount DeMille’s films. This ageless daydream formula of combiningwealth and having fun was well recognized, and was introduced in DeMille’swork. The director regarded the mise-en-scene and scenographic value as equallydramatic as the characterization. He was the film-maker who pioneered theintroduction of bath sets into the photoplay. Baths or bathing was always usedwhen heros were going to have pleasure. Toward the end of 1920's, DeMille’sbath scenes led to a commercial boom in the American plumbing industry; hetreated his bath ritualistically rather than simply for sanitary purposes.162

Artistically, combining between the human element and water existed way beforeDeMille. Bathing in water is an old formula that had its origins back in classicalpictorial art. In this regard, Rembrandt’s The goddess Diana bathing 1634, orHendrickje bathing 1655, are landmark treatments of Baroque art, in whichRembrandt used water and the human element to stress the beauty rather than thebathing itself.

Hollywood moguls well recognized the captivating effect of this narrativeformula, while coupling water with the human element. As a result, theyintroduced it into their productions. As early as in Don’t Change Your Husband

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(1919), and Saturday Night (1922), DeMille started introducing water as thenarrative constituent in his pictures. In the former he used an outdoor swimmingpool and in the latter an indoor one. In both pictures his pools were surroundedby t he heros. Busby Berkeley took this impressive formula for composing adifferent form of choreography. “By a Waterfall” in Footlight Parade (1933),included a mathematical deliberation in its compositional structurization. Thesetting was arranged to fit Berkeley’s composition. Anton Grot and Jack Okey’sset t ing of the pool was a costume tailored for this particular kaleidoscopiccomposition. Additional use of water in the set, this time in another narrativeform, was that of the water channel resembling Venice in Astaire-Rogers musical,Top Hat (1935).

Far from being constructed for its real function as a bathtub, it emerged to becomean artistic study in scenographic composition. Bath sets overshadowed every lineor word spoken by their characters, and gained their narrative quality through avisual aesthetic rather than by serving the script. Whether in Male and Female(1919), Dynamite (1929), or Madam Satan (1930), DeMille applied the samenarrative formula to his pictures. Up-to-date technological modernity in terms ofindustrial products: faucets, marble, towels, light fixture, rugs, beauty products,glance and style, were all combined with wealth and splendors. In Dynamite,M it chell Leisen, Eddie Imazu, and Cedric Gibbons introduced open spatialstructure. This allowed the beholder to look at the characters’ most intimate livingspace, seeing the bedroom from the bath and vice versa. In the historico- religiousmelodrama Sign of the Cross (1933), DeMille exposed the Roman Emperor’slavish spending and decadence through his bath setting. They bathed in milk, andDeMille recreated this in his picture. To demonstrate its authenticity, DeMilleshowed two kittens drinking from the bath. At Paramount, the bath set with its ArtDeco form in The Magnificent Flirt (1928) carried Van Nest Polglase’s signature(Illustration 58). In his early work, Polglase marked his talent for integrating themodernistic touch with exquisite scenographic stylization smoothly. This spatialconceptualization became a convention in Hollywood’s scenographic practice. Inhis bath set, Polglase introduced a lowered marble bathtub below its surrounding,which was suited more for a dream than for bathing in. Polglase stylized thefaucet in the form of modern relief portraiture. It was blended with a classicalform of inverted scallop-shell niches. Spaciousness of the set was achieved byassociating the marble bath with a vanity section, which was raised a step higherto separate it from the bath’s floor. Dividing the two sections from each other wasachieved through a small structure reminiscent of the ziggurat semi-pyramid form(as a component of Art Deco). In addition, by the seat, the large circular mirror

Sheldon Cheney and Martha Candler Cheney, Art and the Machine: An Account of Industrial Design in the 20th-1 6 3

Century America. New York: Whittlesey House 1936, p. 209.

Thanksgiving 1929, in: The American Home, Vol. 3, No. 2 (November 1929), p. 129. 164

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placed within the niche lent the setting an accent of grace. This part of the bathstrongly reflects exaggerated opulence and well being. Throughout the decade, thecontinuation of Hollywood’s tradition of combining the human element and water,in one form or another, continued to be regarded as a box-office hit. Close to theend of the decade, The Women (1939) dealt again with the bath setting. Wade B.Rubottom and Cedric Gibbons’ bath set marked an affinity between FrenchRococo and the modern technological advancement produced in America.

Aft er they were gracefully, cleanly and meritoriously developed, baths likekitchens started capturing the interest of architects and industrial artists. Thesetwo parts of the house were no longer observed as ordinary, utilitariansupplements, but came to occupy their space as essential architectural componentsof the people’s life. In an essay on Thanksgiving of 1929, the author of The163

American Home appreciated the machine-age and its reflection on the way of lifeof Americans. The essay described the bath with plenty of water and electricalconveniences in the American home, as a kind of comfort and sign of healthyliving.164

By the mid-to late 1930's, Hollywood started treating the kitchen as the centerspace of the family’s social gatherings. Around the kitchen table, heros sat fordinner, and discussed their everyday affairs. The kitchen’s function as aceremonial meeting place kept the family ideally together, but at the same timethe kitchen was a showplace for the latest industrial innovations of streamlinedproducts: modern electrical devices for food preparation, blenders and ovens allreflected the age of speed and aerodynamics. Kitchen sets clearly manifested themachine-age and the society’s progress. This formula of the latest technologicalachievements and their services in family life was projected in Perry Ferguson andVan Nes t Polglase’s kitchen set for the screwball comedy Bringing up Baby(1938), which was equipped with modern streamlined technology for cooking andpreparing the food. The same tradition of a streamlined kitchen setting wasdelivered by Hans Dreier for a mobile home’s kitchen in the tragicomedySullivan’s Travels (1941). It presented the other side of technological progress.The slapstick satire revealed the human’s sorrow and misfortune this time; insteadof relying on the technological breakthrough for making life convenient, it turned

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out to be a mechanical misadventure.

Like in bath sets, Hollywood offered boudoirs that were based on ascenographically exaggerated concept. Boudoirs signified the great moments oflife: prestige, vitality and progress. This permitted these sets to achieve a highlyeffective narrative quality corresponding to a daydream, in that every beholder inthe auditorium has the desire to have such glamorous place to sleep in. Hollywoodboudoirs were furnished with satin pillows, on beds suited, again, for dreamsrather than for sleeping. Hollywood introduced bedroom settings in its traditionaland modern style. It varied from the ordinary setting, such as in Transatlantic(1931), and the dapple bed boudoir form in Perfect Understanding (1933), to themost opulent and strikingly modern, as in Dinner at Eight (1934), or Top Hat(1935). Hobe Erwin, Fred Hope and Cedric Gibbon’s boudoir setting in Dinnerat Eight, reflected opulence balanced with overall white: satin draperies, JeanHarlow’s gown, the bed with its stuffed satin pillows, and the boudoir’s wallswere all in white enriched by diffused incandescent light. The picture was one ofMGM’s most elegant productions of the period.

At RKO, inspired by French Rococo, Carroll Clark and Van Nest Polglase createda spatial dream for Astaire-Rogers’ Top Hat. The boudoir’s spatial forms markeda notable simplicity, based on abbreviation and concentration on the essential: fewp ieces of furniture were placed wisely around the set (Illustration 59-60). Astuffed chaise (chaiere) was situated slightly off-center in the set and every otherobject accordingly took its place around it. A dressing table was on the right,while the set entrance was on the left. Most of the narrative action took placebetween the chaise and the steps to the alcove, and not around the bed. The reasonbehind this was to avoid any possible criticism coming from the Production Code-after it was established as an obligatory regulation in 1934. This shifted the bed’sp os it ion in most cases to an alcove, far away from being the focus of thecharacter’s activities. Compositional abbreviation in the set and its mise-en-sceneallowed the impression of plenty of space and well-being. Organic unity of the setwas achieved by a circular type of rug in the front under the bed, and the bed itselfand the steps were semi-circular, as was the plan of the alcove in which the bedwas located. Composition of the set was arranged semi-symmetrically, and nearlyevery object on one side of the set had its complementary on the other: translucentdrap eries on the entrance to the alcove, chairs, flowers vases and the musicalmotives on the wall were all separating the alcove from the front space. Everymise-en-scene on the set was white in contrast to the boudoir’s dark toned wallsand floors, and that was RKO’s landmark signature of BWS.

Sarah Bradford Landau & Carl W. Condit, Rise of the New York Skyscraper 1865-1913. New Haven: Yale University165

Press 1996, p. 5.

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Shall We Dance (1937) is another Astaire-Rogers vehicle, set in the hero’sboudoir -a cabin in the steam liner- where this time Clark and Polglase introduceda neoclassical stylization into their setting (Illustration 61). The set preserved anotable horizontality in its accentuation of the beds, and this was enhanced bys t uffed and angular pillows. Additionally, a long and angular niche above thep illows emphasized the horizontal and smooth accent of the Streamlined ArtModerne. Clark-Polglase applied the same principle of simplicity here -reductionto the necessary. Only three chairs and one small table are placed on the set. Thelinear economy of the figure on the back wall stressed the neoclassic stylizationmingled with form of the Moderne. In this confined space, an alcove achieves anadditional depth cue novelty in the Scenographic Space. Lighting manipulationadded depth cue to the set: light foreground and darker background. Here also theset ’s attributes are in white contrasting with the darker tone of the walls andepitomizing RKO’s hallmarked spatial organization.

The original office building (Tabularium or Public Record Office) was used in thefirst century B. C. by ancient Rome for keeping their communal documentary.From the twelfth to the sixteenth-century, in Europe, it was a place for housingcity offices, administrative needs, and public conventions. Office buildings cameas an answer to constantly growing occupational needs. Its typical formulaemerges from the nineteenth-century ‘if not specifically a New York creation.’With the invention of the phone in 1876, followed by the advancement of railroadtransportation and trades and industry services, demands continuously increasedfor more space (offices) to handle their operations and records. Additionally,165

with the waves of immigrants coming to the U. S. in the late-nineteenth and firstt wo decades of the twentieth century, new opportunities were created andsubsequently new jobs. Some became bosses surrounded by the latest incarnationof what technology had to offer. Others became workers in their factories orbusinesses. Solving these masses’ legal questions, and dealing with their sociallife was another great opportunity for lawyers, newspapermen, insurancecompanies and politicians. This increase in commerce required new places to holdthe ever-growing business world in the large cities. Some executives conductedtheir corrupt activities from sumptuous offices, and profited from the Depressionvictims. These social discrepancies in the land of opportunity interestedHollywood greatly after the emergence of talking pictures.

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Hollywood films turned the luxurious office with its ‘shysters’, ‘news paper men’,and ‘bosses’ into an arena reflecting the social conflicts between the men whohave power and decide the ordinary peoples’ life. Arnold Gillespie together withCedric Gibbons arranged the large office in The Crowed (1928), in which KingVidor presented the life of city Clark dramatically, who is undermined by thepower of forces he cannot confront. Warner’s Lawyer Man (1932) carried thetypical shyster formula of the Depression era. The picture revealed the social andpolitical corruption in city life: lawyers, fraud, class distinction, political bossesand corruption in New York’s Lower East Side. Universal’s Counsellor-at-Law(1933), is another drama dealing with a successful Jewish lawyer George Simon(John Barrymore) who had his busy law office in Manhattan. The picture’s storycontained the typical ingredients of Hollywood’s shyster films: secretaries, love,class distinction, the Depression, and life in New York City. Charles D. Hall’ssumptuous office setting revealed modern Art Deco stylization at its best. Thelawyer’s desk carried smooth and clean lines framing the chevron motives of thedesk as constituents of the style. The same motives are on the office’s door.Except for the lawyer’s desk and a couple chairs, the office did not include manyobjects. With this economical spatial composition, Charles D. Hall kept theattention concentrated on the story lines and let his setting sustain that in thebackground. The large window in the background is covered by translucentdrapery, yielding the beholder a glance over Manhattan’s skyline, and the modernworld of skyscraper architecture.

Gentlemen of the Press (1929) is a newspaper-man picture (Illustration 62). Itsoffice set was arranged by William Saulter, portraying the typical late 1920'sscenographic formula of Art Deco: a high ceiling, modern light fixtures hangingfrom it in the form of an inverted ziggurat pyramid, and visible chevrons on thewalls. The desk, as the center of the spatial composition, is resting on zigzagmotives that were continued on the curtains. The set’s modern rug was angularlypatterned, and the few book cases in the set reflect the journalistic intellect of theoccupant, while the window in the background extends our view into the outsideworld. On the other hand, pictures like The Easiest Way (1931), Dodsworth(1936), Wife Vs. Secretary (1936), dealt with the business bosses’ world and itssocial conflicts. The Easiest Way portrayed a world of millionaires, poverty,department stores, reporters, sales women, mistresses, and employer-employeerelations. In this early 1930's “office setting” stylization, Cedric Gibbons inspiredhis architectural forms from Frank Lloyd Wright’s early architectural period(Prairie style). Willard Brockton’s (Adolphe Menjou) office, the head of theAdvertising Agency, featured horizontal forms and lines balanced with an accent

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of verticality in the form of wing walls surrounding the fire place, the windows,and the door. Wright’s influence upon Gibbon’s spatial stylization reached itsclimax in the setting’s corner and strip windows. The desk itself carried an equalaccent of horizontality. Furthermore, William A. Horning, Edwin B. Willis andCedric Gibbons used a streamlined office set for Van (Clark Gable) in Wife Vs.Secretary. Simplicity marked that scenographic approach. The office entranceincluded smooth forms of metal and glass doors, the front desk was wrapped withsmooth lines and had a curved corner, while its horizontality matched with thelines on the office’s hallway which created the cue of depth in the spatial.

During the course of the 1930's “shyster films” and “rise and fall pictures” inaddition to the “confession movies of the fallen women” were all more suited tothe “office set” than any other films. Whether they were lawyers, newspaperreporters or businessmen, all exercised their power, and rose and fell within theScenographic Space of office set. The latter was presented in the form of ArtDeco heyday style in the first half of the decade, and in Streamlined Art Modernein t he next. Yet office set preserved almost the same formal characteristicthroughout the Golden Age for serving the narrative causality. Like the boudoirset , t he sumptuous office set suggested an exaggerated artistic concept in itsspatial organization. Office settings kept the beholder informed on how characterswent in and out of the set by showing its exit and entrance. In this set, theexecutive’s desk was always the center of the dramatic action, and therefore itrequired an exhaustive scenographic study for preserving its visual style. Theoffice window was a must, because the window’s panoramic view, usually of theManhattan skyline, evoked the impression of power, progress, and technologicaladvancement. The panoramic view through the vast window created spatialcont inuity extending from the confined interior to the exterior world of theManhattan skyline. This spatial extension through the International stylizedwindow made the skyline’s view an inseparable part of the Scenographic Space’smise-en-scene and narrative. Finally, office sets rested on a three walls planrelating to the Quattrocento’s scenic box: one wall in the back adjoined by twowalls, and one on each side of the set. Correspondingly, office sets relied on theeye-witness principle in the essence of their narrative action.

MGM, or rather Cedric Gibbons, was behind the studio’s glamorous image on thescreen during its Golden Decade, and he was obsessed with this formula. CedricGibbons elevated this scenographic philosophy to the level of being spatialconstitution, which was obeyed by any one of his staff who went to arrange anoffice set and adapt the Moderne for the screen. Furthermore, in Hollywood’s

By the early Thirties, the architectural trend of the interior and exterior in the American home was driven by exposing166

t h e l i v i n g s p a c e to the maximum amount of light possible; the same practice was introduced for using the space, andkeeping the cost down. The staircase went up from the hallway and not from the living room, and the latter was adjoinedb y an alcove that performed the functions of library and dining space. Where the kitchen was attached to the alcove; seeA Century of Progress Exposition . . . Chicago, 1933, in: Architectural Record (July 1933), p. 72.

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living space or interior setting we see, most of the time, a fireplace and accent ofhorizontalism. The set is usually adjoined by an alcove or another addition, orboth, which lend the Scenographic Space a supplementary and distinct cue ofdepth. Hollywood Scenographers raised this extension of space by one or twosteps to separate it from the foreground setting. This was, and still is an elaboratescenographic formula for adding depth cue novelty to the spatial arrangement, andfor separating the two spaces’ functions from each other. Clark-Polglase adaptedthis scenographic conception of open space in their scenographic configurationof the boudoir in Top Hat (1935); Stephen Gosson in Theodora Goes Wild (1936)at Columbia; with some stylization by Hans Dreier and Robert Usher in Artistsand Models (1937); and by Anton Grot in Hard to Get (1938).166

T he executives occupying the sumptuous offices were always out at nightspending their evenings in splendorous night clubs and places suiting their wealthand arrogance. Such places were filled with smoke and everybody seemed to havefun (sometimes not); the loud sound of the music was obviously marking the endof the silent film era. Blond haired young ladies crowded the nightclubs seekingto climb up the ladder to a good way of life, hunting for love affairs with thewealthy bosses of the clubs they frequented. Usually the painted background, withpanoramic views the Manhattan skyline, was shimmering with the light of thevisible skyscraper buildings. Contrasted tonal values, glass, and metal in additionto the expressive lighting of the nightclub setting, were all essential aesthetic signseffective in revealing the glamor of the night life. Still the smooth lines and formsof the Moderne, such as balconies or other raised levels from the dance floor,separated the guests’ sitting space from the dance level. The nightclub setting ofthe decade was based on this scenographic formula.

Cedric Gibbons preserved this formula in his scenographic conception forBroadway Melody of 1936 (1935). Again, it was repeated in the Silver Sandal andClub Raymond nightclubs in Swing Time (1936), (Illustrations 63-64). Highcontrasts of black and white colors dominated both clubs. In the Silver Sandal, thesmooth lined and curved staircases, on both sides of the set, led to the dance level.The scenographic arrangement achieved symmetrical composition and contributed

A fire ruined Paramount’s new sound establishment in the first half of 1929, after the studio spent about $ 400, 000167

on the sound technology. Metro started over in constructing the new sound technology; see Ann Lloyd and DavidRobinson, The Illustrated History of the Cinema. New York: Macmillan 1986, p. 95.

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great balance to the spatial composition of the club. Every surface of the set wasshimmering (back drops, tables, doors, chairs, and more than anything the shinydance floor of the Silver Sandal), and all these spatial vocabularies werecelebrating the great moments in life. In Club Raymond, a neoclassically designedfigure was situated in the background. This was another highlighting of RKO’sidentity in the next half of the decade, besides the studio’s typical BWS. TheSilver Sandal and Club Raymond sets were the artistic product of Clark-Polglaseand John Harkrider, the man who worked together with Joseph Urban on ZiegfeldFollies during the 1920's. By then Harkrider was in charge of the Follies’ gowns,and there he got his training for capturing spatial spectacles. Harkrider came toUniversal Studios from Broadway with expertise in the scenographicext ravaganza. He created some of the most extraordinary Scenographicstylizations to reach the screen during the Golden Age, some of which include:Roman Scandals (1933), The Great Ziegfeld (1936), and Mary-Go-Round of 1938(1937). The illustrated nightclub’s scenographic formula was revealed -withadequate alterations- in some of the most lavish penthouse nightclubs producedduring the 1930's. This was essential in establishing the spatial concept of anymarvel of staging to come.

Close to the end of 1928, Hollywood studios realized that there was no turningback to silent pictures. In the first half of 1929, Hollywood spent around $50million on investing in new sound technology. Universal invested two milliondollars on three sound stages. One was specifically built to host the backstagemusical Broadway (1929). By then, this sound stage was regarded as the largestin t he world. Universals’ Broadway or ‘the first million-dollar talkie’, was167

planned to be a distinctive production of its time. A special camera crane wasconstructed at the studio to film the musical: the crane had a fifty-foot long arm,which was fully mechanically operated. The noiseless crane maneuvered in almostevery possible angle, and cost about fifty thousand dollars. Charles D. Hall’s setdimensions of the Paradise Night Club were enormous (see Illustration 51). Thecrane’s boom conformed in height with the set’s walls that reached sixty feet inheight, and its balconies were at a level of fifty feet from the ground. With thecrane’s mobility, a unique cinematographic assignment was permitted, the first of

Richard Koszarski, Moving Pictures: Hall Mohr’s Cinematography, in: Film Comment (September 1974), pp. 50-53.1 6 8

Sarah Bradford Landau & Carl W. Condit, Rise of the New York Skyscraper 1865-1913. New Haven: Yale University169

Press 1996, pp. 15&16.

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its kind to date. Hall’s setting certainly attained a respected place in Art Deco168

history, and the scenography of its Paradise Night Club kept the picture alive. Topof the Town (1937) was produced at Universal, but this time its Scenographerswere John Harkrider and Jack Martin Smith, after Danny Hall left the studio in thesame year (Illustrations 65-66). Harkrider- Smith’s Moonbeam Room was typicalstreamlined stylization. Circular balconies, rounded staircases and smooth curvescharacterized the set. Harkrider contrasted between the white light beams and thedark gray tones in the club to add elegance to the space. He exposed the set toindirect back lighting, from behind glass brick walls on the balconies and in theforeground. The Moonbeam Room’s set featured asymmetrical spatialcomposition that was highly praised by critics.

Today’s understanding of the hotel and its complete service emerged from theEuropean spa tradition: the grand hotel at Baden-Baden. The hotel was a publicshelter that had been used as the center for the medieval pilgrimages, in the mid-fifteenth and sixteenth-century in Rome. The Hotel’s conception and historicaldevelopment had the same flourishing patterns of the tall office building. NewYork’s first skyscrapers were used as hotels. Business practices required people169

to travel, and consequently this was accompanied by using the hotel as a boardingplace. Hotels came increasingly to people’s attention when they were discoveredto be a lucrative business. Hollywood took this aspect of real life and introducedit in a way fitting the motion picture’s art form during the 1930's.

Unlike night clubs, Hollywood Hotels were stages for the society’s variousclasses; in the hotel love-stories started and others ended, people came and peoplewent. They shared their experience in life with one another and then left. Thisinterrelation between the different classes of the society was manifested in thelives of the hotel’s guests in Grand Hotel (1932). The picture -as in other hotelfilms- is not limited in its treatment on the life and behavior of the upper class, int he hot el we see: a dancer, Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo); a Stenographer,F laemmchen (Joan Crawford); a doctor, Otternschlag (Lewis Stone);a porter,Senf (Jean Hersholt); a housekeeper (Greta Meyer);a man in bar (Rolfe Sedan);and a honeymooner, Mrs. Hoffman (Mary Carlisle), to name but a few. Up to theearly nineteen-thirties it is controversial to determine who did what in MGM’s

Ulmer’s name is registered as the director of the German and French versions of the picture; as there is no evidence1 7 0

that such foreign versions exist, it might be that these are dubbed versions of the picture.

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scenographic stylization, since Gibbons received credit for the scenography of allthe studio’s productions. But still, Grand Hotel’s setting (Illustrations 67-68) wascreated in association with Edwin B. Willis, Alexander Toluboff and CedricGibbons. Yet it is unclear, however, whether Edgar G. Ulmer contributed to thepicture’s scenography or not, because Ulmer’s name is documented in the libraryof the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) under Ulmer’sfilmography; in this early talky, sound recording was not yet a well-establishedtechnique. Metro’s publicity material advertised that preventing the noise from thecharacters’ shoes on the black-white tiled floor of the hotel lobby, required thatthey had to wear wool socks over their shoes to prevent the noise from beingrecorded. The production team wore about two hundred pairs of woolen socks perday. 170

Hotel films called for the most dynamic space used in the setting. The hotel lobbyis the arena for the characters’ restless activities around the clock. The front deskis always processing something, while telephone operators are busy connectingcus t omers to the inside or outside world. Guests are arriving, others leaving.Grand Hotel demonstrated a supreme landmark Art Deco setting that establishedMGM’s scenographic identity, and qualified the studio to lead in forming theModerne on the American screen. Specifically, it validated the mastery of CedricGibbons as an artist, who had a sense for adapting the Moderne to the screen. Filmcrit ics regarded this portmanteau picture as being profoundly narrative andseemingly unequaled in its glamour during the Thirties. Grand Hotel constitutedt he essential aesthetic signs of Art Deco in its scenographic composition.Gibbons, Edwin B. Willis and Alexander Toluboff centered their artistic attentionon the luxurious lobby of the Berliner hotel, in which most of the narrative actionis taking place. Linear and geometrical motives of the highly contrasted floor wereformed by white and black tiles and took the shape of a spiral, i.e., a dynamicform. This points to the lobby’s circular front desk as the center of action in thehotel. The lobby is a display space for up-to-date modernity, starting at the hotel’srounded entrance with a revolving door. This was the introduction to the lobby’scircular shape. Almost every shape is formed in a circle or a half circle in thelobby: starting by the staircase going up to the hotel’s rooms, the handrails aroundit , light fixtures and columns- even the building’s plan was constructed in thesame shape. Art Deco components continued in the hotels’ interior. The elegance

Martin Battersby, The Decorative Thirties. New York: Walker 1971, pp. 24-30.171

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of the spatial composition lent the picture its narrative essence, and kept it alive.Hot el pictures did not receive the same flourish period as other forms of theModerne had on the screen during the Thirties, except at RKO in Astaire-Rogersmusicals. Whether Bella Vista Hotel in The Gay Divorcee (1934), or the hotel onVenice’s Lido in Top Hat (1935), both hotel sets carried the exaggeratedextravaganza formula of the Moderne. They were monumental in their stylization.It was Carroll Clark and Van Nest Polglase’s trademark setting throughout theThirties.

The settings of Hotels, nightclubs, sumptuous offices, kitchens, boudoirs, andsteamliners , were all narrative constituents of Astaire -Rogers’ cycle at RKO.They were repeatedly introduced in one or another of their pictures throughout thedecade. These forms of the Modrne (BWS) were hallmarked by their clean,smooth lines and contrasted tonal treatment.

In a move by the French government to keep French artists employed, theycommissioned them to work on such prestigious projects as the Normandie, in1932. The ship project was supposed to exceed its predecessor, the French linearIle-de-France of 1927. Normandie contained a seventy-five foot long swimmingpool which was twenty-five feet high, and forty-six wide. The ship’s main diningroom was three hundred and five feet long, and Normandie’s hosting capacityserved seven hundred passengers. It was put to service in 1935, but seven yearsafter its production, Normandie was destroyed. It caught on fire in 1942 in NewYork Harbor. Ships such as the Normandie attracted the attention of Hollywood171

film-makers during the Thirties. Ocean liners were the place where the rich hadadventures and cruised the world. Hollywood introduced this form of thet echnological progress in the form of a floating dream. Ocean liners camerevealing the most up-to-date inventions. Hollywood did not use real ships. Thelatter were reproduced by artists on the studio’s lots. Ocean liners were stages forvarious stories and activities: from hunting for love and wealth, to culturaleducat ion, to crime. It was the place in which every imaginable surprise waspossible.

During the flourishing period of Streamlined Art Moderne in the second half ofthe Thirties, the trend toward introducing streamliners in Hollywood productionswas on the rise. Streamlined Art was at its best in the ocean liner movies, yet a

See Film Daily (2 October, 1930).172

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studio such as RKO continued insisting on imposing the studio’s trademark evenon their ship sets. In Shall We Dance (1937, Illustrations 69-70), the liner floorswere painted in black, and the rest of the ship’s machinery was left in white. FredAstaire danced “Slap that Bass” with white shoes on a glossy black floor, his shirtwas white and the tie was black. The ship’s scenographic composition combinedall the typical characteristics of the Streamlined Art Moderne.

Fox’s seabound crime-drama Transatlantic (1931), was an early example of theocean liner series during the 1930's. Transatlantic’s setting won an AcademyAward for its Scenographer Gordon Wiles. The picture’s scenographicinterpretation marked a notable page in spatial realism. Simplicity, straight lines,contrasted chiaroscuro tones, combined with Howe’s low-key cinematographylent to the luxury liner S. S. Transatlantic its visual quality. Art Deco beautifiedt he liner’s interior. Wiles borrowed somewhat sinuous lines and the organicfoliate forms from Art Nouveau. RKO’s crime and sea-drama The Sin Ship (1931)is another early-Thirties picture dealing with adventure on the sea. Some of itsscenes were shot in Santa Catalina Island harbor. During this transitional periodto sound, RKO had to rent six high-speed boats at the cost of $ 500 per hour, topatrol the harbor and distract disturbing noise during the production. Parts of172

Paramount’s Anything Goes (1936), were shot on location in Honolulu, Hawaii.The picture is a stage for gangsters, romance, singers, detectives, imprisonmentand stockbrokers. Hans Dreier with Ernst Fegte reproduced the S. S. Americanain the studio. The action took place in various spaces of the liner allowing bothScenographers to plan their sets in separation from each other and not have tocons t ruct the whole ship. They balanced the streamlined spirit with circularwindows and a bold horizontal accent in the interior of the ship. Goldwyn’sDodsworth (1936), as we have seen in the previous Chapter, revealed RichardDay’s streamlined style of a floating dream, which was built in Hollywood(Illustration 71).

Dreier-Fegte met again in the final of Paramount’s Big Broadcast series; The BigBroadcast of 1938 (1937), directed by Mitchell Leisen. The musical comedy isdealing with the race between the S. S. Gigantic and the S. S. Colossal to crossfrom New York to Cherbourg (a city of northwest France on the English Channel)in two and a half days. Dreier and Fegte inspired their steam liner model from theoriginal, created by -ex-stage Scenographer and later industrial artist- Norman Bel

Donald J. Bush, The Streamlined Decade. New York: George Braziller 1975, p. 133.173

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Geddes in 1932. The liner manifested an ultimate streamlined form product, withits smooth and rounded shape signifying the “teardrop” and reflecting the age ofspeed. The Big Broadcast of 1938 was typical in its theme, and it included musicalrevues, boat races, broadcasting, explosions, golf, opera, reunions, rescues and ex-spouses’ plots. RKO’s Love Affairs (1939) belongs to Hollywood’s mostremembered films of the Thirties. It granted Al Herman and Polglase an AcademyAward nomination (in the Best Interior Decoration category). The pictureportrayed romance on board a transatlantic crossing from Naples to America.

Late into the decade, Hollywood produced not only modern ocean liners, but seafilms dealing with history, sea, and drama. At Paramount, Hans Dreier and JohnGoodman sketched the setting for Rulers of the Sea (1939). The storylinesconcerned the nineteenth-century Scotland sea Captain Oliver’s (GeorgeBancroft) brutal treatment of seamen. This same rhythm of the sea pictures wasrepeated in MGM’s wartime sea-drama Thunder Float (1939). Gibbons and UrieM cCleary’s scenography illustrated the spirit of World War I off the NewEngland coast, where German U-Boats attack American shipping vessels. Thestory’s dimensions unfold between the themes of war and romance.

‘T he M oderne is a variant of the International Style with much of thatmovement’s starkness, severity and commitment to the process and aesthetics ofthe machine age.’ On the other side, Bauhaus, and Stijl artists were unyielding intheir dedication to a principle of geometric functionalism. Though, StreamlinedModerne obtained forms that featured organic lines. The style was labeled ‘by acombination of flat and curved walls,’ which were usually ‘light in tone and oftentopped with silvery handrails of tubular metal that enclosed terraces. Extensiveuse was made of glass blocks especially in the curved walls and around entranceways. Occasionally circular windows balanced rectangular elements.’ 173

Fabricating the material that formed Streamlined Art Moderne during the secondhalf of the 1930's, came in the form of modern products that were used inconstructing Hollywood’s sets. Astaire-Rogers’ cycle probably made the best useout of the modern alchemical products. Their sets’ floors on the charming settingshad a wooden finish with Bakelite. The latter was very delicate, and it neededspecial care. Therefore, the Bakelite floor was only danced on during the actual

After dancing on Bakelite floors, long breaks had to be taken during the production, ‘while the scars were removed1 7 4

with Energine. Oil would have been quicker, but an oiled surface would have been impossible to dance on.’ Arlene Croce,T h e Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers Book. New York: E. P. Dutton 1972, p. 126; “Bakelite”: ‘is composed of paper andro sin under high pressure and is fire-, water-, and liquor-proof. It is now [early Thirties] being successfully cast andmo l d e d a n d also used in sheets applied like veneer to wood (The Telephone mouthpiece and receiver are made of it.).’S e e Paul T. Frankle, Form and Re-Form: A Practical Handbook of Modern interiors. New York: Harper 1930, pp.165&167.

C f. Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Direction in the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina and London:1 7 5

McFarland 1990, p. 238.

If H o llywood Golden Age’s scenographic stylization affected Morris Lapidus’ architectural taste in Miami Beach in1 7 6

the Fifties; see ibid., pp. 238&239; the 1930's Hollywood spatial organization inspired the great modern architect RichardNeutra in Los Angeles during the decade.

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shooting, while during the filming preparations it was covered with cardboard.174

Beverly Heisner drew an analogy between the modern stylization of CarrollClark-Van Nest Polglase’s sets and the monumental projects in America -theWork Project Administration’s (WPA) activities and the skyscraper architecture.Heisner meant that Clark and Polglase’s settings ‘are wittier and lighter in conceptt han t he new architecture most people saw around in the thirties,’ and paidat t ention to. Heisner observed the monumentality of WPA’s projects ‘asrep resentative of modern tendencies in architecture and design.’ Moreover,175

some companies such as Coca-Cola, the Greyhound Bus Company, and numerousot her companies and shopping houses adapted Streamlined Moderne as anexp ression of the spirit of the age, i.e., to project themselves as modernbusinesses. For Beverly Heisner, the 1930's Paramount, Goldwyn, Metro andRKO’s scenographic departments were responsible for revolutionizing Americantaste and perception to favor the Moderne, leaving classicism behind.176

T he WPA’s launched larger-scale projects (such as founding The Museum ofModern Art, or constructing the Hoover Dam) under the Federal Government’sprogram to find jobs for the mass-unemployed following the Great Depression.These projects were an appropriate answer to the difficult questions posed by theDep ression, whereas the Skyscraper’s architecture was constructed forcommercialism and business purposes, in which some individual architects lefttheir mark. Beverly Heisner is convincing in her assertion that both forms werea monumental expression of the age spirit, and captured the masses’ attention.But, Hollywood’s scenography of the 1930's was the vehicle to shift the Americantaste for favoring the streamlined aesthetic, and had the capacity to do so. Thismeant that Hollywood’s spatial code constituted some artistic qualifications that

Frank Miller, MGM Posters: The Golden Years. Atlanta: Turner Publishing 1994, pp. 30&90.177

See Margaret Farrand Thorp, America at the Movies. London: Faber and Faber 1946, pp. 114&115.178

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merited the public’s attention. Today, almost seventy years after these two artforms -of Hollywood’s settings and the monumental projects- emerged, both arewell known and well remembered. Yet Hollywood film scenographic style of itsRenaissance Decade is not wittier and lighter in concept as advocated by BeverlyHeisner. This spatial concept was an art form that suited the moving picturemedium. Its value is a cinematographic and instructive one, but not monumental,as t hat of concrete art. The Thirties film, with its spatial organization, was afundamental vehicle in educating and narrating the public during one of thedarkest periods in American history (the Depression). The scenographic style ofthis period is, today, a part of American culture, and has an equal value to thosemonumental projects. If these were a momentum solution, the scenographicoutputs from Dreier, Gibbons, Day, Clark-Polglase and their associates in the1930's are not. These artists’ products may outlast those buildings (in some casesit happened). Hollywood’s scenographic translation of the Golden Age came tostay as a source of inspiration for generations to come.

With the Second World War breaking out in Europe, Hollywood started losingground overseas. Boycotts of the American film industry forced Hollywoodexecutives to find a solution to their economical dilemma. MGM shifted its focust o t he domestic market, and altered the studio’s style to pro-Americana.Moviegoers responded to the new domesticated photoplay as a safe harbor awayfrom the war’s danger, or for watching the its action. European censorship of177

Hollywood’s products, and the American public desire for seeing realism relatedto their everyday life, suggests Margaret Farrand Thorp, were two chief reasonsfor shifting toward national consciousness in U. S. film-making. Despite being arecord year for the movies, 1938-9 was the most American year of photoplay.‘Out of some 574 feature pictures 481 were tales of American life.’ Hollywood’sfilming began concerning itself with real life -far from lavish settings and up-to-date modernity. Stories started unfolding within maidless kitchens, and featuredaverage homes with stuffed and shabby furniture. ‘This domestic trend appearst o be related to the great wave of regional art and literature, the discovery ofAmerica by Americans, which [was] so important a cultural phenomenon of thenineteen-thirties.’ 178

Following the renovation of Williamsburg, Virginia in 1937, a boom for “Early

Cf. Howard Mandelbaum and Eric Myers, Forties Screen Style: A Celebration of High Pastiche in Hollywood. New1 7 9

Y o rk : S T. Martin’s Press 1989 (Introduction); “Williamsburg”: A city of southeast Virginia northwest of Newport News.S e t t l e d c. 1632, it was the capital of Virginia from 1699 to 1779. It declined after the capital was moved to Richmond.In 1 9 2 6 a l a rge-scale restoration project, financed mainly by John D. Rockefeller, Jr., was begun, in which some 700mo d e rn buildings were removed, eighty-three colonial buildings were renovated, and more than 400 buildings werere c o n s t ructed on their original sites. The city is the seat of William and Mary College (established 1693). Population is9, 870.

C f. Donald Albrecht, Designing Dreams: Modern Architecture in the Movies. New York: Harper & Row 1986 (Aus1 8 0

d . Eg l . Ubers. u. hrsg. von Ralph Eue, Architektur im Film: die Moderne als Grosse Illusion. Basel: Birkhauser 1989),p. 119.

See Anson Bailey Cutts, Homes of Tomorrow in the Movies of Today, in: California Arts & Architecture, Vol. 541 8 1

(N o vember 1938), pp. 16-18; see also Three Sets From the Picture “Shall We Dance,” in: California Arts & Architecture,Vol. 52 (October 1937), p. 30; by mid-decade, stylization harking back to the “Colonial Farmhouse type” was noticeablei n t h e S o u t h e rn California’s architectural works of Gerald R. Colcord, H. Roy Kelley, John Byers and Edla Muir; seeDavid Gebhard and Harriette Von Breton, Los Angeles in the Thirties 1931 - 1941. 1975 (2 Ed., Los Angeles: Hennesseynd

& Ingalls 1989), p. 97.

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American” was getting closer to the public heart than ever. Anything traditionalwas attractive; the Moderne started leaving Hollywood’s Scenographic Space.Gradually, a scenographic trend was starting toward no longer utilizing slidingglass doors, glamor, or open spatial conception in the setting. Finally, after179

emerging from the nineteen-twenties and reaching a commanding place inHollywood’s spatial organization by the mid-Thirties, the Moderne startedprogressively retiring from the American screen. 180

Late in the decade, Hollywood Scenographers did not entirely eliminate theintroduction of modern accent in their Scenographic Spaces. By the late 1930's,Hollywood’s Scenographers started mingling Ultra-Modern, or Functionalarrangements with traditional styles in their spatial organization. Evidently thisproduced a high narrative image upon Hollywood’s screen. Agreeably a torrent181

of period styles blended with Modern stylization took over Hollywood studios .Every studio welcomed the new scenographic trend in their spatial treatment. InSelznick International Pictures’ show business drama A Star is Born (1937), LyleWheeler and his associate Edward G. Boyle manifested the new scenographict rend of Hollywood in the late 1930's throughout the picture. The spatialorganization of the Blodgett family farmhouse in North Dakota evoked warmthand peace: stuffed and traditional furniture, the floor covered with a hand-wovenrug, the window dressed with long draperies, and the lighting treatment oscillatingbet ween soft and low-key, concentrated only on the narrative composition.Blodgett’s setting was far from smooth and modern in its forms, and concentratedon the Traditional American. In the Malibu beach house, the residency of Esther

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Victoria Blodgett, later known as Vicki Lester (Janet Gaynor) and Norman Main(Frederic March), we continue to see Traditional American style manifested ins lat t ed doors, composite furniture, wildlife images hung on the brick walls,traditional fire places, wood furniture (cupboards, table, chairs and even the clockon the wall), which all lent warmth to the Malibu set after they were combinedwith circular and angular rugs carrying the lines of the Moderne. Frederic March’sbedroom included a blend of Functional aesthetic and Traditional Americanstyles: stuffed furniture, a circular mirror, smooth walls with light tonal treatment,a modern light fixture, a smooth surfaced tea table, and semi-rounded plan of theliving space. This fine balance between traditional and Ultra-Modern continuedin Casey Burke’s (Owen Moore) recreation room, in which a blending of modernglass brick mounted as a wall behind a stuffed couch was accentuated byhorizontal and vertical streamlined lines. A stylized tea table recalled neoclassicalart, while the table lamp took the streamlined circular form, and was wrapped byhorizontality and placed on an angular table. All these scenographic attributesachieved a successful blend of Early American with accents of the Moderne. Yetthe studio commissary setting contained more vocabularies of Ultra-Modern thanall the other sets combined (bold horizontalism on the walls, circular windows,t ables and columns, Bauhaus chrome chairs, glass and metal doors as well aswindows).

Late in the Thirties, RKO marked a distinctive stage in Hollywood’s scenographicstylization. Composite and stuffed furniture were in vogue, floors were coveredwith hand-woven rugs, and linear figures relating to the neoclassical trend werecrafted. All were balanced with a modern circular tea table, sometimes coveredwith glass, modern light fixtures and glass brick walls. These new constituents ofthe late 1930's scenography were manifested in Clark-Polglase’s compositionaleconomy in Shall We Dance (1937), see (Illustration 61). In the realisticdomesticity of Clark-Polglase’s Carefree (1938), and Perry Ferguson-Polglase’sBringing Up Baby (1938), a clear inspiration of the Traditional Americanstonework of early Pennsylvanian and New England farm houses was delivered(Illustration 72). Still, RKO’s scenographic department took the newly renovated“Williamsburg” architectural form as a source of inspiration in the studio’s setsof this period.

In one form or another, Hollywood’s spatial organization in the late Thirtiesfeatured Ultra-Modern or functional arrangements mingled with traditional styles,and was repeated in almost every film Scenographer’s product of this period. Inthis, Gibbons and his associates (Illustration 73), and Clark-Polglase were the

H o l l y w o od of the late 1930's utilized more period styles in Scenographic stylization than in any other period in1 8 2

H o l l y w ood’s scenographic history. The modern scenographic treatment was balanced with period styles such as:J a c o b ean, Victorian, Adam, Renaissance, Georgian, Elizabethan, Greek, Biedermeier, Viennese Rococo, Empire andP e a s a n t Scandinavian; for a closer look at the mentioned period styles see; Barbara Taylor Bradford, The CompleteEn c y clopedia of Homemaking Ideas. New York: Meredith Press 1968; Hazel Kory Rockow and Julius Rockow, CreativeHome Decorating. New York: H. S. Stuttman 1946; Joseph Aronson, The Book of Furniture and Decoration: Period andM o d e r n . N e w York: Crown Publishers 1936; and Eva Howarth, Architektur: Von der griechischen Antike bis zurPostmoderne. Phoebe Philips Editions 1990 (Ubers. aus dem Engl. von Adelheid Zofel, Koln: DuMont Buchverlag 1992).

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trailblazers. And this time Columbia (Lionel Banks) and Warner’s scenographicdep art ments joined the new setting trend. Anton Grot’s Hard to Get (1938)p rovided a landmark sophistication in its use of this spatial arrangement(Illustration 74): traditional and stuffed furniture, a circular tea table on a circularfurry rug highlighting the oval room, smooth and light-colored walls, the lattermarked by square frames balanced with a circular mirror. Still forms ofNeoclassicism highlighted the entrance to the alcove and surrounded itsfireplace.182

Late in the decade, Hollywood’s scenography revealed its third and last periodaft er those of Art Deco and Streamlined Art Moderne. Again Hollywood’sscenographic departments shared a similar spatial formula, akin to the previousone, that allowed balance between the Moderne and period stylizations. In thisspatial organization, the Scenographic Space of the late Thirties was marked by:a room in the background (usually an alcove), which was raised from theforeground by a step or so, and contained overstuffed furniture marking atraditional or Early American style. Hollywood’s scenography of this period usedwood furniture that started replacing the silvery and glossy surfaces and forms inthe set including chrome chairs. Textural treatment of traditional stone work fromthe early Pennsylvanian farm houses equilibrated this approach persuasively in thespace. Long draperies (usually hung from the ceiling to the floor or having thesame height as the door) with hand woven furry rugs and slatted doors allcont inued the organic unity in the spatial, and lent it warmth. The spatialcomposition was labeled by composite furniture. Traditional accentuation wasblended subtly with glass brick walls borrowed from the streamlined aesthetic.Hollywood sets showed a preference for circular form, and a minimum use ofglass surfaces. This parallelism between period and Ultra-Modern stylization inHollywood scenographic stylization continued during the war era of the 1940's.In Since You Went Away (1944), Mark-Lee Kirk and William Pereirademonstrated the continuation of this spatial trend, but in this period the styleshifted toward an articulated traditional American setting that overshadowed the

Donald Deschner, Edward Carfagno MGM Art Director, in: The Velvet Light Trap, Vol. 18 (Spring 1978), pp. 30-34.183

S e e Beverly Heisner, Production Design in the Contemporary American Film: A Critical Study of 23 Movies and1 8 4

Their Designers. Jefferson, North Carolina: MacFarland 1997, pp. 6-7&39.

Ted Sennett, Great Hollywood Movies. New York: Harry N. Abrams 1983 (2 Ed. 1986), pp. 145&146.185 nd

The Lay - Out for “Bulldog Drummond”, in: Creative Art, Vol. 5, No. 4 (October 1929), pp. 729-734.186

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Moderne.

Holly wood’s Scenographers significantly relied on the screen story in theirhandling of their spatial conception. From the script emerged the setting thatwould work for the picture. American film Scenographers ‘want to adapt their183

craft to the story and the way it is being told’ claimed Beverly Heisner, as, in part,the American film preferred to be “realistic” in its narrative. This would allow thebeholder to grasp the set’s spatiotemporal relation, which reflects the screen story,at ease. Heisner maintains that this preference for realistic approach is ‘perhapsan indication of the pragmatic and reality driven American psyche.’ WhetherScenographer or director, both truthfully translate the script lines, ‘rather thanimposing a style upon it.’ From its origin, this studio’s version of reality took thenineteenth-century stage realism as source of inspiration, more than the Europeanfilm has. Generally, during its Golden Age, Hollywood film practice has184

adapted realistic scenographic stylization, and most times it was presented in anexaggerated form, which corresponds to the fundament of a true artisticinterpretation and to the preservation of it from becoming blind emulation. It istrue that script lines were guiding not only Hollywood Scenographer, but everyother member of the production team. This was the law of the studio system. Itcould not be violated. But Hollywood’s history is closely linked with theExpressionism of the Germanic school. In the juxtaposing of horror and realism,Hollywood refined the style with its own formula of Expressionism, made inHollywood. In his inspiration of the German scenographic style in Bulldog185

Drummond (1929), William Cameron Menzies’ added his own artisticvocabularies to his sets that gave new dramatic means to the picture. It began186

in t he 1920's, when Menzies started inspiring some of his work from theGermanic scenographic school. In Menzies’ borrowing from that spatial style, hecreated a new era in Hollywood’s scenography and character composition: slopedwalls, eccentric angles, perspective distortion, and exaggerated and deformedshadows; all these were evident in The Beloved Rogue (1927), The Iron Mask(1929), and Alibi (1929). William Cameron Menzies’ stylized spatial treatment

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marked a high point in Hollywood scenographic stylization.

At Paramount Hans Dreier balanced between the Expressionistic setting and thedramatic mood of the story lines. Dreier, in association with Richard Kollorsz,originated a gratifying and sophisticated scenographic stylization in The ScarletEmpress (1934). Kollorsz and Dreier secured an enchanting visual effecteconomically by painting the set walls and giving them the impression of three-dimensionality that played a key roll in assigning to the set its narrative quality(Illus t ration 75). Peter Ballbusch, the Swiss sculptor, formed the picture’scaricatured figures and gargoyles, which were displayed throughout theMuscovian court. The setting was steeped in shadowy atmosphere, its illuminationconcentrated only on the narrative action. The Scarlet Empress reachedmemorable visualization efficiency, which Josef Von Sternberg took the credit forand imposed his name on. At Universal Pictures, Charles D. Hall called for typicalGerman Expressionism in his spatial configuration for Frankenstein (1931), (seeIllustrations 41-42), and The Black Cat (1934), (see Illustrations 76-77). InFrank ens tein, a distortion in the setting’s convergent lines was notable. Hallcalled for exaggerated textural treatment in his settings’ walls. He emphasized thisby exposing the set to a hard lighting effect. Sloping walls and skewed anglesmarked the sets. All these aesthetic signs evoked horror. At Warner, Anton Grotleft a memorable stylization behind him. He inspired his concept from theExpressionist spatial school in Doctor X (1932), Mystery of the Wax Museum(1933), and Captain Blood (1935) among others (Illustrations 78-79). Grot’sspatial stylization belongs to some of the most conceptual interpretations of theGermanic style that reached Hollywood’s screen. He projected eccentric angles,perspective distortion with wrong vanishing points, sloping walls, windows andfloors creating a depth cue, which were magically narrative.

Grant ed, we observe something of a shortcoming in conventional Hollywoodspatial stylization compared with the film scenography of German Expressionism.We should not overlook the fact, however, that the American film Scenographerfrom the Pre-Code Thirties has achieved the realistic term “house style.” In this,we ought be familiar with the studio system and its doctrines: not allowing any ofthe Golden Age Scenographers (whom the studio employed) to impose their ownscenographic style on the studio’s image. Hollywood’s executives were neverrisk-takers when allowing experimentation with Expressionism or anythingbeyond realism. Conversely, they were conservative box-office oriented men. Yet,t he 1930's offered exceptions to this rule. Like Art Deco, the GermanicExpressionist spatial concept was borrowed from European modern art movement.

L. Barsacq, Caligari’s Cabinet and Other Grand Illusions: A History of Film Design, pp. 178&179.187

Morton Eustis, Designing for the Movies: Gibbons of MGM, in: Theater Arts, Vol. 21, No. 10 (October 21, 1937),188

pp. 793&794.

Lazare Meerson, in: Sight and Sound, Vol. 7, No. 26 (Summer 1938), pp. 68&69.189

‘In many ways, the cinema deprives architecture of its autonomy, makes of it a symbol whose meaning alters with1 9 0

c o n t e n t . ’ C f. Raymond Durgnat, Films and Feelings. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Massachusetts Institute of Technology1967, p. 102.

Le onardo quoted in Jean Paul Richter (Ed.), The Literary Works of Leonardo Da Vinci. Vol. II, London: Sampson1 9 1

Lo w , Ma rs t o n, Searle & Rivington 1883 (2 Ed., The Notebook of Leonardo Da Vinci. New York: Dover Publicationnd

1970), p. 36.

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It was refined to appeal to Americans, as it often the case when adapting otherstyles from life, reforming them, and making them conform to American taste.

3.5 Exterior Spatial Organization Constructing a setting on the sound stage in the studio is not always possible.Sometimes the script calls for a set on location, but anachronism and othertechnical difficulties can be among the main obstacles preventing the film crewfrom using a given location. Consequently, constructing an exterior set will be thefitting solution. Unlike interior sets, exterior settings have to stand up to statisticalaspects of outdoor conditions and preserve their aesthetical values. When187

selecting an outdoor composition, the film Scenographer does not imposeprofound alteration, or falsify the natural setting. The film Scenographer shouldallow nature to preserve its own artistic impact on the scene. In this, a balance188

between the natural outlook and artistic touch on the natural setting is highlyrecommended. This same concept of balance pertains to an exterior set built in thestudio.189

‘A fundamental equation of the cinema’s’, stated Raymond Durgnat, ‘is:landscape=state of soul. Architecture may constitute an X-ray photograph of theheroes’ minds.’ Film-makers select their architectural forms loaded with dramaticmeans. Dramatically, an architectural form is a reliable aide for translating the190

mood of the narrative action. ‘A building’ indicated Leonardo Da Vinci, ‘shouldalways be detached on all sides so that its form may be seen.’191

Cinematographically speaking, the camera is a form reader. A solid and originalobject’s form situated in the Scenographic Space has decisive visual meaning for

Melvin M. Riddle, From Pen to Silversheet, in: The Photodramatist, Vol. 4, No. 3 (August 1922), pp. 9&10.192

George P. Erengis, Cedric Gibbons: Set a Standard for Art Direction that Raised the Movies’ Cultural Level, in: Films193

in Review (April 1965), pp. 229&230.

V incent LoBrutto, By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers. Westport, Connecticut: Praeger 1992, p.1 9 4

5.

Art for Film’s Sake: The Production Designer and the Art Director, in: John Shand & Tony Wellington (Ed.), Don’t1 9 5

Shoot the Best Boy! The Film Crew at Work. Sydney: Currency Press 1988, pp. 63&64.

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t he camera eye, because a distinctive form can dominate every other mise-en-scene in the spatial composition.

In an article written by Melvin M. Riddle in the Photodramatist in 1922, Riddleexplained that the majority of the larger American studios assigned a “locationdirector”, whose assignment it was to keep a record of any exterior locations orsettings that were available within the district of the studio. Prior to World War192

II, and during the war years, much of Hollywood’s outdoor sets were constructedin the studio on the sound stage. When planning an exterior set, the questionsposed are, formally, different from those of the interior. But in the final analysis,both setting forms share same formula in their arrangement of spatial objects, i.e.,how t hese would work with the screen story is important. Paramount’s193

Scenographers worked entirely in the studio under a ‘controlled environment.’Paramount’s scenographic department, according to Robert Boyle, never went outsearching for a location, and all sets were built in the studio. Boyle did notmanifest his confidence in the economical aspect, while shooting on the street,since that is accompanied by many difficulties, and principally that of not havingcontrol over lighting the set. 194

In the two decades following the advent of dialogue, Hollywood Scenographerswere responsible for the picture’s whole visual stylization. By then, the spatialorganization equaled the directorial job in terms of importance, and exceeded thecinematographer’s. Today this has changed because film production is takingever- more privileged footage from outdoor locations, and the cinematographyusually manages to capture the beauty of them. But this does not necessarily195

mean that shooting on location does not require sets.

Under t he supervision of the landscape architect Florence Yoch, Hollywoodproduced the most memorable natural settings in the second half of the 1930's.

See James J. Yoch, Landscaping the American Dream: The Gardens and Film Sets of Florence Yoch 1890-1972. New196

York: Abrams/Sagapress 1989, pp. 93&94ff.

A credit dispute was reported between Cedric Gibbons and Oliver Messel over who would and should take credit for197

the picture’s scenography. The battle was settled by a compromise achieved by Irving Thalberg, where Messel’s namew o uld accompany Adrian’s name on the costumes, and the credit for the setting was the chief’s (Cedric Gibbons, and hisassociates Willis and Hope).

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Simp licity and consistency marked these exteriors’ realistic and colorfuls t y lization. Florence Yoch’s settings contributed significantly to the generalatmosphere of these pictures, since much of the story’s dramatic content relied onthese showy natural sets. These sets contributed dramatically to the narrativeefficiency of their pictures. Metro’s research department spent two years196

collecting material for the studio’s historical romance Romeo and Juliet (1937).It included sending a team to photograph typical characterizations of Verona,Italy. Gibbons and his department (Edwin B. Willis, Fredric Hope and the Englishartistic consultant Oliver Messel) conducted exhaustive research, to capture thespirit of the picture’s fifty-four sets including Verona, Capulet House and thearchitectural forms of its garden. Florence Yoch arranged the exterior settings197

of t he Cemetery in Verona, the Meadow scene and the Capulet Garden(Illustrations 80-85). Yoch’s realistic arrangement for these landscape settingssuggested a paradigmatic visual metaphor. Yoch integrated her landscaping of theCap ulet garden (built on the sound stage) smoothly with the surroundingarchitectural fragments. In that, the garden’s elaborate arrangement revealsmathematical forethought concerning where every plant was to be placed, so thatthe camera could operate freely when filming the set. Fruit trees, various plants,and t he water canal of the Capulet Garden, did not distract from the action.Conversely, this persuasive background maintained the shaky characterization ofRomeo (Leslie Howard) and Juliet (Norma Shearer), who did not suit their roles.But institutional constraints (Shearer was Thalberg’s wife) dictated thatassignment. The studio constructed landscape settings of the Capulet Garden, theMeadow and Cemetery in Verona which framed the narrative action; but it is safeto say that they saved the action if not surpassed it.

Admirably, the integration between landscape setting and architectural forms isa highly narrative formula- it calls for peace, and reflects the character’s state ofmind. The lamasery setting in Lost Horizon (1937), touched on this spatialequat ion. Columbia’s Scenographers (Stephen Goosson, Lionel Banks, PaulMurphy and Cary Odell) inspired this spatial formula from Frank Lloyd Wright’sintegration of nature and architecture -clean air and a peaceful life, surrounded

It i s n o t e worthy to relate that this architectural concept was not Frank Lloyd Wright’s own invention. The Arab1 9 8

a rc h i tects mastered this technique in their impressive architectural stylization in Granada and elsewhere in Al-Andalusb e t w e e n t h e 8 and the 16 century; The Alhambra is a landmark architectural masterpiece in this regard . ‘Effective useth th

o f s p a c e , l ight, water and decoration made the Alhambra an image of paradise on earth, and reflected the culturalbrilliance of what was to be the last Muslim kingdom of Al-Andalus.’ See Tor Eigeland, Touring Al-Andalus, in: AramcoWorld, Vol. 50, No. 2 (March/April 1999), pp. 22-33.

‘Th e se cases included complete hand-and oxen-driven waterwheels which, when installed in California, lifted water1 9 9

three hundred feet up a terraced hillside, plows, grain grinders of stone, knives of various kinds, pots, dishes, condimentj a rs , b e ds, mattresses, and other priceless authentic properties. These objects were not new but worn. Many had been ina c t u a l s ervice for a century or more. They added great value to the picture [my italic].’ See Barrett C. Kiesling, TalkingPi c t ures: How they are Made, How to Appreciate them. Richmond, Virginia: Johnson 1937, p. 105; during my visit toD e b b i e Reynolds Hollywood Movie Museum in Las Vegas in March of 1996, I was able to see the bed used by WangLu n g (P a u l Muni) and O-Lan (Luise Rainer), which was brought from China among these props; when it came tore p ro d u c i n g realism, MGM never made short-cuts. For the historical biography Marie Antoinette (1938) the studio sentp ro p men to spend another year in France collecting material for the picture. The crew assembled a large amount of propsi n c l u d i n g 1 2 , 000 photographs, to help in translating eighteenth-century French realism that was sketched by WilliamH o rn i n g a n d Cedric Gibbons with ninety-eight interior and exterior sets; see George P. Erengis, Cedric Gibbons: Set aStandard for Art Direction that Raised the Movies’ Cultural Level, in: Films in Review (April 1965), p. 225.

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by water, Himalayan mountains and nature. Something similar to this, but not198

on the same scale, was introduced in Hollywood’s artificial integration of set andnature (this time without water) in Tara and Twelve Oaks in Gone with the Wind(1939); shrubs, animals, trees, and plants framed the sets. Again Florence Yoch’slandscape setting in Gone with the Wind furnished the production with warmth,and symbolized a typical image of rural life in the picture.

Because of their hard work and extensive research, Metro-Golwyn-Mayer’s artistsachieved an attention-capturing degree of realism in the studio’s scenography.MGM sent the property man, John Miller, for almost a year to China to collect thenecessary farm props for The Good Earth (1937). Miller went to China’scountryside and bought whatever he could. He collected items to ‘fill threehundred cases with thousands of [used] objects.’ On the screen, the picture was199

an authentic resemblance of China’s country life, and a classical masterpiece. Ricet erraces of the Chinese farm land, and the courtyard garden of the Big Houseinduced an intimacy and pure realistic accent. This realism of the Chinese countrylife in the outdoor setting balanced with the interior sets of the picture.

Is it a question of exterior setting for the sake of its iconographic image, or amatter of economical reasons that caused Hollywood to shift to the naturalmetaphor, or both? Natural or exterior settings have always attracted beholdersto the screen: its highly narrative formula rests in its simplicity and permits thebeholder to take a peek on something familiar or new. This was a ritual rhythm

William K. Everson, A Pictorial History of the Western Film. 1969 (2 Ed., The Hollywood Western. New York: A2 0 0 nd

Citadel Press 1992), p. 145.

A l fre d Krautz, Film Szenographie und Kostumbild: komentierte Quellen, aus Theorie und Praxis des Films. Hsg:2 0 1

Betriebsakademie des VEB/DEFA, Studio fur Spielfilme 2/1980.

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of Hollywood’s western genre. The hero of the western was its setting as well. Wecannot imagine a western picture without the echo of the countryside: desert,horses, sun, sky or mountains. As a part of the picture narrative formula, visualaesthetic of the realistic exterior dominated the genre from the early years of theThirties and beyond. This narrative formula of filming on location was highlywelcomed by both the major and small American studios. But it was a questionof who could arrest the most narrative image from the limitless framingpossibilities available in nature. Much, if not all of Hollywood’s 1930's westerns,were filmed on location: the former gold rush settlement -the ghost town ofHornitas, California- was used in RKO’s Ghost Valley (1932) as a location;Universal Pictures’ distribution Smoking Guns (1934) was shot on location inBronson Canyon in Los Angeles; Republic Picture’s the Tumbling Tumbleweeds(1935) made use of the Victorville location, California. But Walter WagnerProductions’ and United Artist’s distribution Stagecoach (1939) succeeded inusing the exterior locations (Monument Valley and others) more paradigmaticallythan any other western picture did throughout the genre’s history. Paramount’sUnion Pacific (1939), made use of Cache, Oklahoma, the Mojave Desert, CanogaPark, Stockton, Sonora, California, and Cedar City and Iron Springs, Utah.

‘When expensive location jaunts aren’t needed or can’t be afforded, Hollywoodhas its own West right in its backyard,’ and most studios constructed their own200

western streets on their lots. Universal, Warner Brothers, Fox, Columbia, andRKO started producing their own “quickies” on their own western streets’ settingsrepeatedly. If the interior setting is a reflection of its occupants’ social and culturalbackground, then the exterior setting or outdoor iconography is the mirror of itsoccupant’s way of life. If culture and nature can be integrated smoothly in theinterior and exterior setting, they will deliver a high level of narrative quality tothe screen. Alfred Krautz reminded us: as much as a landscape setting maintainsthe dramatic mood of the picture, it can also distract from it. An unreasonableemphasis on the landscape beauty may lead to aesthetical dominance over thenarrative action, instead of keeping the natural setting as a subordinate frame tothe action.201

In the second half of the 1920's, America witnessed a notable boom in skyscraper

In the late nineteen-twenties, skyscraper architecture reached its flourish times in America. To namea few of these202

t a l l tower buildings: Ely Jacques Khan’s Film Center Building 1928-29; Joseph Urban’s International Magazine Building1 9 2 7 -2 8 ; W i l liam Van Alen’s Chrysler Building 1928-30, (300 meter high); B. Joseph J. Furman’s Twentieth-CenturyF o x Building 1930; and the vastest and most known skyscraper of all, Shreve, Lamb & Harmon’s Empire State Building1930-31 (400 meter high).

Reyner Banham, The Architecture of the Well-Tempered Environment. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press2 03

1 9 69, p. 72; however ‘geographic, technological and economic factors made the development of the skyscraper inevitablea ft e r 1 8 65.’ See Sarah Bradford Landau & Carl W. Condit, Rise of New York Skyscraper 1865-1913. New Haven: YaleU n i v e rsity Press 1996, pp. 17-39; James S. Ackerman and Rhys Carpenter, Art and Archeology. Englewood Cliffs, NewJ e rs e y : P rentice-Hall 1963, p. 169; Leonardo Benevolo, Storia dell’Architettura Moderna. Bari: Editori Laterza 1960(U b e rs. von Elisabeth Serelman, Geschichte der Architektur des 19. und 20 Jahrhunderts. Erster Band, Munchen: GeorgD. W. Callwey 1964), p. 274; ibid., zweiter Band, pp. 300&338; see also Hugh Ferris, The metropolis of Tomorrow. NewYork: Ives Washburn 1929, p. 16.

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architecture. It took the Stock Market Crash of 1929 for most of the skyscraperactivities to be affected, and they had to pause for a while before these projectsres t art ed in the Thirties. Many factors combined in granting the rise of202

skyscraper architecture and in making it the center of the business world: besidethe invention of the steel skeleton (Stahlkonstruktion), there was the elevator,improvements in the hygienic factors (plumbing), and electrical lighting. Therewere other means that sustained the tall tower architecture, such as telephonecommunication, secure anchoring, fire protection, heating and cooling of thebuilding. All of which attracted the building’s occupants (businesses and theiroffices) and kept them operating. The skyscraper’s existence depended upon thesebusinesses’ successes to keep the tall building alive. Skyscraper buildings wereidentified with strength, fame and prestige. These same motives were behind theerection of Egypt’s pyramids, the towers in the European towns, the churches’towers and campaniles of medieval times. 203

As in its adaptation of all other phenomenons of prestige and progress of life inAmerica, Hollywood was more than enthusiastic in welcoming the new symbolof fame, and borrowing from the latest progress of what technology had to offer.Skyscrapers’ settings were present in and common scenographic practice ofalmost every American studio. Starting in the late nineteen-twenties, Charles D.Hall’s setting for the Paradise Night Club in Broadway (1929) introduced the tallbuilding set (Illustration 51). Hall’s introduction to the tall building’s forms -skyscrapers- in his Scenographic Space symbolized the successes and the latesthuman achievement in life. Climbing high reflected enthusiasm anddetermination. Edwin B. Willis, Alexander Toluboff and Cedric Gibbons’ settingfor Grand Hotel (1932), was another tower set in the movies. Musicals andnightclubs celebrated a glamorous life, and they manifested this spirit in theirscenographic configuration. In his landmark scenography for 42nd Street (1933),

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Jack Okey displayed a pool of skyscrapers in his spatial arrangement (Illustration86). Okey’s tall buildings’ forms marked the climax of the musical, and his settingincluded various architectural styles from the New Yorker skyline. All arestrikingly high, and lit evocatively to remind us of the continuation of life acrossthese buildings.

In the International Supper Club of Broadway Melody of 1936 (1935), the NewYorker skyline framed the action of Irene Foster (Eleanor Powell). Merrill Pye,Edwin B. Willis and Gibbons’ skyscrapers lining the background added grace tothe picture. The Chrysler Art Deco tower is distinctive in the background, whichwas often introduced in the settings’ backgrounds marking progress and the NewYork way of life. MGM produced another picture in the series of Broadway. Itwas Broadway Melody of 1938 (1937). Joseph Wright, Edwin B. Willis andGibbons repeated the age’s common formula of scenographic stylization, this timeby composing a semi-abstract skyscraper composition surrounding the space. Thelinear effect of white, and vertical lines of tiny lights, marked the dark tops of theblock buildings and highlighted their forms. When these lights were off, the formof the building became shorter and different, while the horizontal illuminationseparated these block buildings from each other. The bottom of these blockbuildings was ornamented with a panoramic view of the metropolitan city and wasseparated from the action floor by about ten steps. At the end of the steps the titleof the picture was placed with big letters standing in contrast to their background.

In the late 1930's, as Hollywood’s spatial organization started shifting toward abolder accentuation of realism, the highlight in the scenographic stylizationbecame less glamorous. This was notable in Warner Brothers’ On Your Toes(1939). The skyscraper line in the background is no longer a resemblance of up-t o-date architecture. Robert Haas arranged the background composition of askyline from the buildings of the late-nineteenth century. They are closer to theaverage beholder’s everyday experience, and far from the world of the night life.

Hollywood took the skyscraper as a symbol of society’s advancement, but alsoshowed t he ugly side of that modern symbol. Tall tower buildings played afrightening and destructive role in human experience. The failure of moderncivilization in the twentieth-century was arrestingly manifested in King Kong(1933). It was made clear in the conflict between the modern society’s men, theirattacks on nature, and the latter’s retaliation to this bankrupt society. King Kongrevealed this message clearly after they brought Kong from his habitat from thejungle, to be displayed as the “Eighth Wonder of the World” in New York City.

Ann Lloyd and David Robinson, The Illustrated History of the Cinema. New York: Macmillan 1986, p. 111.204

By the 1933, the year King Kong was released, twelve million unemployed were registered in America; see Andrew2 0 5

Bergman, We’re in the Money: Depression America and Its Films. New York: Harper & Row 1971, p. 71.

V. Khazanova, Andre Burov 1900-1957, in: Architectural Design, Vol. 40 (February 1970), p. 104.206

Sheldon and Martha Candler Cheney, Art and the Machine: An Account of Industrial Design in 20th-Century2 0 7

America. New York: Whittlesey House 1936, pp. 146&147.

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He became unleashed amid the world of skyscrapers. Kong grabbed Ann Darrow(Fay Wray) from a tower building (a New York hotel) and climbed the EmpireState Building. Consequently, Kong was attacked by the authorities’ airplanesarmed with machine guns to stop him. Finally Kong was killed on top of theworld’s tallest skyscraper.

King Kong convinces us in our approval of Kong by highlighting the decadenceof modern urban society. The picture criticized the modern life of the204

met ropolitan world and its complexity. It denounced the social and economicchaos that followed the Depression, and praised the simple way of life. Andrew205

Burov, the prominent Russian architect, criticized the modern tall building. Burov‘subordinated the skyscraper and the car to man, as being ‘inhuman’ and ‘un-scheduled’ in the towns of the past.’ Tall tower building was assumed to206

represent the progress of the industrial, mechanical and commercial aspects inAmerica. But in general, it epitomized ‘industrial power plus artisticimpotence.’207

T oward the end of the decade, Hollywood’s scenographic trend was pointingtoward increasing realism in its Scenographic Space. Pictures like RKO’s CareFree (1938) did not make use of the high office as a place for the action. Instead,Astair-Rogers preferred playing on the ground surrounded by Early Americanstylization, in the Country Club set, rather than going high in the elevator.

Musicals, nightclubs and office set’s backgrounds were always framed by thesky line of Manhattan and its skyscraper architecture. This spatial conceptcontinued to stay alive in motion picture spatial organization. In the 1940's, theskyscraper format maintained its presence in the setting background on the screen.Andy Hardy Meets Debutante (1940), Deception (1946), and The Fountainhead(1949) revealed this architectural formula in their backgrounds. In the 1950's,Hollywood’s scenography continued introducing this setting concept to the

S e e C ervin Robinson and Rosemarie Haag Bletter, Skyscraper Style: Art Deco New York. New York: Oxford2 0 8

University Press 1975, p. 11.

Hugh Ferriss, The Metropolis of Tomorrow. New York: Ives Washburn 1929.209

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screen. Musicals like Lullaby of Broadway (1951), or The Band Wagon (1953)cont inued this scenographic tradition in less opulent format. Today, majorAmerican broadcasting companies use it as a background framing their programs,both for the concept’s narrative efficiency and its association with prestige.

During the 1920's, some new enterprises emerged to solve the increased problemsof the growing metropolitan area. This required a city planning session to dealwit h sections of the city, rather than with single buildings. In 1923, someclarifications for the crowded city were submitted by a commission, chaired byHarvey Wiley Corbett from the University of California, to the Regional PlanAssociation. The board suggested a multilevel city. ‘Pedestrians were to passthrough shopping arcades at the second-story level of the city’s building. Thesearcades were to be connected by bridges crossing the roadways between.Automobile traffic would be at the ground level;’ if needed, parking spaces wouldbe constructed under these buildings. The real road would be at underground leveland the underpasses would be proper, if located at the primary intersections.208

Ot her p roposals to solve modern city traffic and population problems wereillustrated by innovative artists like Hugh Ferriss, who sketched out an idealisticand imaginary city of the future rather than a realistic one. Le Corbusier209

introduced his own layouts for a modern metropolitan city: an elevated airportterminal at the center of the skyscraper city, in addition to a surface level andsubway level. Another proposal was suggested by Le Corbusier that included ascient ifically planned city with block buildings bordered by parks, whilebusinesses were situated in distinct tower buildings.

These visions for the idealistic metropolitan city of twentieth-century America,and the world, were among principal sources of inspiration for a new motionpicture cycle. That is of the futuramic city in Hollywood pictures. Ever since theearly years of the Golden Age, film Scenographers were challenged by the futurecity. At Fox, Stephen Goosson together with Ralph Hammeras arranged an idealset model of the futuramic city. Their city model could be observed as beingamong the most elaborate model sets of the 1930's. Their model for Just Imagine(1930) was enormously large, and consumed a great deal of time and energy toconclude (Illustration 87). It seems like Goosson and Hammeras had the RegionalPlan Association’s proposals as a script, and from there they started constructing

Kathleen Church Plummer, The Streamlined Moderne, in: Art in America (January-February 1974), p. 48. 210

According to the Canadian and British Cinematograph Films Act of 1927, or “Quota Quickies,” all production and2 1 1

d i s t r i b u tion companies were directed to provide a quota of 20% of domestically produced pictures for circulation in theCommonwealth. The purpose behind this act was to promote the English film industry. Instead what resulted was ani n c re a s e of domestically produced pictures by companies monopolized and possessed by Hollywood. Otherwise,Hollywood studios would not be qualified to share the market in the English controlled territories.

Rules of Thumb for Things to Come, in: The New York Times (12 April 1936).212

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their imaginary setting. Just Imagine, a science-fiction musical about a man (ElBrendel), who dies in 1930 and was revived a half-century later. Yet when ElBrendel awoke, he could not cope with the modern advanced society, and the wayof life in the New York of 1980. Goosson-Hammeras’ futuristic model ofHollywood’s first science-fiction musical revealed an elaborate scenographicstylization. Its imaginary city of New York was multi-level- one for pedestriansat the second story included bridges crossing the super highway. These allowedpedestrians to enter the shopping plazas, since the businesses were connected bysuch bridges. Its highway is on the ground level, and had tremendous capacity forallowing endless traffic without delays, while underground level was assigned forthe real road. Just Imagine’s futuristic model set reveals astonishing details andhard work, which rewarded both Scenographers with an Academy AwardNomination for their effort. King Kong (1933) offered parallel visions to thisfuturamic city (New York). When Kong climbs the Empire State Building andlooks at the modern city, the view corresponds to Just Imagine’s setting, exceptin King Kong, air traffic crowded the sky.

During the 1930's, Hollywood’s science fiction films offered another form offuturamic city with uniquely narrative ingredients. Science fiction fantasy of thenineteen-thirties, stated Kathleen Church Plummer, is what kept the image of thefuturamic city alive. In this regard ‘glass, curves and controlled environment freefrom rain, cold, disease, chaos and squalor,’ formed the decade’s future city.210

Produced in London, and distributed by the United Artists Corporation, Things toCome (1936) is a landmark science-fiction picture in the history of the genre.211

The picture’s scenographic stylization was praised by critics of The New YorkTimes for its narrative quality. William Cameron Menzies directed the social212

science fiction drama. Vincent Korda and Frank Wells arranged its settings (seeIllustrations 88-90). Things to Come achieved an enchanting aestheticalvisualization. Its story was based on the English science fiction writer HerbertGeorge Wells’ book The Shape of Things to Come (London, 1933). Wells himself

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worked on the script. It concerns a war breakout in 1940 across Everytown whichcontinues until 1966. Social breakdown and “wandering sickness” throughout theworld follows the war. As Dr. Harding (Maurice Braddell) is searching to find acure for this, a man who calls himself “the Boss” orders the sick who wander intothe street to be killed. By May Day of 1970, the Boss brings the people’s maladyunder control, but only after he has brought Everytown to ruin. The Bosscontinues his fight for “victorious Peace.” He dies after choking on “peace gas”released from planes descending on Everytown. An orgy of technology continuesuntil 2036, and Everytown is transformed into a modern underworld city, healthyand peaceful. Now the city’s inhabitants are slaves to scientific progress, and theyare about to send Catherine Cabal (Pearl Argyle) and Horrie Passworthy (PicklesLivingstone) in a ‘space gun’ to the moon. A Theotocopulos expresses his wishto end the scientific age by calling “progress is not living”, and the city peoplemove on to destroy the space gun; instead, Oswald Cabal (Raymond Massey) isforced to launch the rocket and disappear alone into the atmosphere.

Certainly it is a thin story, but the artistic talent behind visualizing this story is ofour central consideration. The picture’s scenographic stylization has unarguablycontributed to keep the picture alive. Everytown, before and after its destructionis well-arranged and persuasively organized. Menzies and his team lit the city toap p ear idealistic to the eye. High contrasted light and shade revealed thedistinction between every line and form in the setting, specifically by highlightingthe lines of Tudor’s architectural stylization. This lighting concept, whichcorresponds to classical pictorial art, came from Korda’s background as a painterof trade. Equally balanced was the visualization of the destruction of Everytown.The city’s destruction was mostly visible at the top of the buildings. Distinctiveforms of the city structures such as pointed arches, exposed beams of theRenaissance buildings, and some of the styles’ distinctive lines and forms werekept intentionally standing. The intention behind this semi-form preservation wasto keep the beholder continually oriented. This was another Menziesian methodto bridge the gap between two dissimilar scenes of his pictures, as he achievedhere in his settings in bridging from peace to the ensuing war .

Lasz lo Moholy-Nagy worked on the setting of the Utopian city. His spatialconfiguration for the city of the future did not include solid walls, permitting theeye and light to travel free from one space into another without obstacles in theway. Steel skeletons, covered with glass and plastic sheets, substituted the walls.This experimental scenography of the city of the future did not come to life. It was

Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, Experiment in Totality. New York: Harper&Brothers 1950, p. 129.213

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left wasted on the cutting table.213

When the fantasy drama Lost Horizon (1937) was produced, Europe waspreparing for World War II. The danger of war and tension were hanging in theair. Frank Capra went to show the world that simplicity of life still exists in placeswhere peace and love are considerably significant. The fantasy drama was basedon Lost Horizon by James Hilton (New York, 1933). After an airplane with fivep assengers is highjacked and later crashes in the mountains of Tibet, thepassengers try to escape from the Chinese revolution. They are taken to Shangri-La, an idyllic and mysterious paradise. Its mission is to save the world’s treasuresfrom destruction and to spread a brotherly love. This was suggestive enough forthe banning of the picture in Germany. Lost Horizon’s scenographic stylizationwas impressive (Illustrations 91-92). According to the program for the picture’sNew York Premiere, Harrison Forman, the technical consultant on Tibet,explained: on Columbia ranch in Burbank, California, the lamasery set measured1,000 feet long and about 500 feet wide, and took 150 men about two months tocomplete; the Valley of the Blue Moon was located in Sherwood Forest, fortymiles from Hollywood; the rioting scene at Baskul was taken at MunicipalAirport, around Los Angeles; the refueling sequence at Lucerne Dry Lake. CaryOdell inspired his sketches for the lamasery setting from Frank Lloyd Wright’sarchitecture of the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, and his modern architecture from theThirties. Its setting revealed symmetrical plans and forms of the structure of thebuilding. The lamasery may be entered through straight and to-the-side ascendingwide stairs. In the front of Shangri-La, the pool serves the function of a mirror, ason the water’s surface is another imaginative image of Shangri-La, with all itsforms and lines. It is a pure filmic image that had a tight relationship with thedream. The set’s interior accumulated an amalgam of stylizations from variousperiods (Renaissance, Rococo, late eighteenth-century French lighting sconces,and oriental objects). In arranging their composition in an amalgam of stylization,Goosson and his team wanted to reflect the lamasery’s mission and its belongingto all cultures. The Lost Horizon setting involved painstaking work to achievesuch impressive scenographic stylization. It won an Academy Award (for Best ArtDirection).

The Emerald City and Munchkinland in the musical fantasy The Wizard of Oz(1939) were other scenographic translations of Hollywood’s utopian cities duringt he 1930's. Around 116 midgets were introduced into the Munchkins’ scene-

Daily Variety (17 August 1938).214

Daily Variety (3 January 1939); whether this trip took place or not, there is no evidence.215

See Hugh Ferriss, The Metropolis of Tomorrow. New York: Ives Washburn 1929, p.124.216

For how some of the special effects were achieved in the witch’s castle and elsewhere in The wizard of Oz; see Tim2 1 7

Onosko, Made in Hollywood, USA: A Conversation with A. Arnold Gillespie, in: The Velvet Light Trap, Vol. 18 (Spring1978), pp. 46-50.

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MGM needed more but they were not available. Metro planned a publicity tour214

of eighty-eight Munchkins throughout Chicago, Miami and ending their trip atNew York’s World Fair, where the studio planned to stage a “Munchkin Village”from the original Munchkinland setting. William A. Horning, Cedric Gibbons’215

setting, Jack Martin Smith’s sketches, Ben Carre-Warren Newcombe’s mattes andEdwin B. Willis who dressed the sets, introduced a memorable setting for theclassic fantasy. The Munchkinland spatial organization is a colorful andimaginary world of a dream: a yellow brick road leading to the midgets’ huts,their roofs covered with hay, and the huts’ forms semi-circular shape giving theimpression of a mushroom grown on terraces in nature. The huts’ dimensions arediminished to accommodate the midgets’ bodies, while some huge flowers aroundthe pool, and in the middle of the set, are contrasting with Munchkins andaccentuate the world of illusion. Flowers can be seen everywhere, the scene isglittering with cheer and sound, and the setting is balanced paradigmatically withcolor.

Warren Newcombe painted the crystal-like Emerald City (see Illustrations 93-95).Newcombe’s image has a unique outlook. I found in Newcombe’s illustrationsome parallelism to Hugh Ferriss’ description of the buildings of the “Night in theScience Zone.” ‘BUILDINGS like crystals.Walls of translucent glass. ...No Gothic branch: no Acanthus leaf: no recollection of the plant world.A mineral Kingdom.Gleaming stalagmites. Forms as cold as ice.’216

Many more artists contributed to the conclusion of the classic fantasy The Wizardof Oz and placed it among the ageless pictures of the Golden Age. From the217

genre of the futuramic city in the 1930's we only remember its captivatingscenographic visualization. This is mainly what kept these pictures alive, and not

Robert S. Sennett, Setting the Scene: The Great Hollywood Art Directors. New York: Harry N. Abrams 1994, p. 50.218

Jane Holtzkay, When Hollywood was Golden, the Movie Sets were, Too, in: The New York Times (January 11, 1990).219

185

their thin scripts. The genre brought subjects to the beholder’s attention whichwere uncalled for in the past, whether the new technological innovation wasserving the society or leading to its founder’s end.

Finally, throughout its history, Hollywood’s cycles mostly treated the city as ‘aplace of death’, or ‘nostalgia’ for the old great times. By the emergence of the218

neo-realism of the Italian school, after World war II, exterior setting meant “Onlocation.” This started replacing the studio’s constructed settings ‘and fantasycame to mean science-fiction or Steven Spielberg adventure rather than[scenographic] inventions.’ 219

41 Sketch for the laboratory set ofFrankenstein (1931) by Herman Rosse.Scenography: Charles D. Hall, HermanRosse. Cinematography: Arthur Edison.

42 The same laboratory set was reused byUniversal in Bride of Frankenstein (1935).Scenography: Charles D. Hall, HermanRosse. Cinematography: John J. Mescalland Alan Jones assisted by William Doddsand John P. Fulton.

43 through 48 are frames from The Good Earth (1937). Landscape Scenography: FlorenceYoch, settings by Harry Oliver, Arnold Gillespie, Edwin B. Willis, Gabriel A. Scognamillo,Frank Tong and Cedric Gibbons. Cinematography: Karl Freund, assisted by Ray Ramsey, BenM. Cohen, Charles G. Clark, Russel Cully, H. C. Smith and the “Newsreel” from James WongHowe.

49 Captain Blood (1935). Scenography: Anton Grot. Cinematography: Hal Mohr,Ernest Haller, Robert Surtees, assisted by Louis de Angelis, Bob Davis and FredJackman.

50 Leonardo Da Vinci -perspective.

51 Paradise Night Club, in Broadway (1929).Scenography: Charles D. Hall.Cinematography: Hal Mohr.

52 William Cameron Menzies’ sketch for Alibi(1929). Scenography: William CameronMenzies. Cinematography: Ray June.

53 I am a Fugitive from a ChainGang (1932). Scenography: JackOkey. Cinematography: SolPolito.

54 The Crowd (1928).Scenography: Arnold Gillespieand Cedric Gibbons.Cinematograhy: Henry Sharp.

55 Dodsworth (1936). Scenography: Richard Day. Cinematography: Rudolph Mate, Ray Binger.

56 Frank Lloyd Wright’sRobie House 1909, fromthe Prairie period.

57 Five and Ten(1931). Scenography: C

edric Gibbons. C

inematography:

George B

arnes.

58 The Magnificient Flirt (1928). Scenography: Van N

est Polglase, Hans D

reier. Cinem

atography:Henry G

errard.

59-60 Sketch and its setting of the boudoir in Top Hat (1935). Scenography: Carroll Clark, Van Nest Polglase, Thomas Little.Cinematography: David Abel, Vernon Walker.

61 Shall We Dance (1937).Scenography: Carroll Clark, VanNest Polglase, and Darrell Silvera.Cinemagtography: David Abel, J.Roy Hunt, Vernon Walker.

62 Gentlemen of thePress (1929).Scenography: WilliamS a u l t e r .C i n e m a t o g r a p h y :George Folsey.

63 Silver Sandal inSwing Time (1936).S c e n o g r a p h y :Carroll Clark, JohnHarkrider and VanNest Polglase.Cinematography:David Abel assisstedby Joe Biroc, WillardBarth and VernonWalker.

64 Club Raymond inSwing Time.

65 and 66 are a sketch and its setting from the

Moonbeam

Room

in Top of the Town

(1937).Scenography:John H

arkrider, Jack Martin Sm

ith.C

inematography:H

al M

ohr, Joseph

Valentine,R

obert Surtees, assisted by Ross H

offman, B

. Weiler

and John P. Fulton.

67 Sketch by Edwin B. Willis for the hotellobby in Grand Hotel (1932).Scenography: Alexader Toluboff, EdwinB. Willis and Cedric Gibbons.Cinematography: William Daniels, assist-ed by A. L. Lanel, Charles W. Riley andAlbert Scheving.

68 Grand Hotel

69 Shall We Dance (1937).Scenography: Carroll Clark, VanNest Polglase, and Darrell Silvera.Cinemagtography: David Abel, J.Roy Hunt, Vernon Walker.

70 Shall We Dance

71 Dodsworth (1936). Scenography: Richard Day. Cinematography: Rudolp Mate, Ray Binger.

72 Bringing Up Baby(1938). Scenography:Perry Ferguson, VanNest Polglase.C i n e m a t o g r a p h y :Russel Metty, VernonWalker.

73 Double Wedding(1937). Scenography:Joseph Wright,Edwin B. Willis,Cedric Gibbons.C i n e m a t o g r a p h y :Joseph Ruttenbergassisted by HermanFisher and SigKaufman.

74 Hard to Get (1938). Scenogarphy: Anton Grot. Cinematography: Charles Rosher.

75 The Scarlet Empress (1934).Scenography: Hans DreierRichard Kollorsz, and PeterBallbusch. Cinematography: BertGlennon.

76 The Black Cat( 1 9 3 4 ) .S c e n o g r a p h y :Charles D. Hall.Cinematography:John Mescall, KingGray, John Martinand John P. Fulton.

77 The Black Cat.

78-79 Sketcht and its setting from Captain Blood (1935). Scenography: Anton Grot.Cinematography: Hal Mohr, Ernest Haller, Robert Surtees, assisted by Louis de Angelis, Bob Davisand Fred Jackman.

80 Model for the Capulets’ garden in Romeo and Juliet (1937). This model was one of 54models, which were constructed for the picture. Scenography: Edwin B. Willis, Fredric Hope,Oliver Messel and Cedric Gibbons. Cinematography: William Daniels.

81 Left, Edwin B.Willis, CedricGibbons (center),and Fred Hope(right) are seen withtheir blue printsunder the setting’sarches of Verona inRomeo and Juliet.

82-84 Sketch

with

its m

odeland exterior set-ting from

Romeo

and Juliet.

85 Meadow scene in Romeo and Juliet.

86 42nd Street( 1 9 3 3 ) .S c e n o g r a p h y :Jack Okey.Cinematography:Sol Polito assistedby Michael Joyce.

87 Just Imagine (1930). Scenography: Stephen Goosson and Ralph Hammeras. Cinematography: ErnestPalmer.

88-89 Things to Com

e(1936). Scenography:V

incent Korda and Frank W

ells. Cinem

atogarphy:G

eorges Perinal assisted by Robert K

rasker, Harry Zech, Edw

ard Cohen.

90 Things to Come (1936). Scenography: Vincent Korda and Frank Wells. Cinematogarphy: Georges Perinal assisted byRobert Krasker, Harry Zech, Edward Cohen.

91-92 Lost Horizon

(1937). Scenography:Stephen G

oosson, Lionel Banks, Paul M

urphyand C

ary Odell. C

inematography:Joseph

Walker, Elm

er Dyer, E. R

oy Davidson and

Canahl C

arson.

93 Emerald C

ity sketched by Warren N

ewcom

be in The Wizard of O

z(1939). Scenography:W

illiam A

. Horning, Edw

in B.

Willis, W

arren New

combe and C

edric Gibbons. C

inematography:

Harold R

osson assisted by Allen D

avey and Samm

yC

ohen.

94 Emerald C

ity’s sketch by Warren N

ewcom

be in The Wizard of O

z(1939). Scenography:William

A. H

orning, Edwin B

. Willis, W

arren New

combe and C

edric Gibbons.

Cinem

atography:H

arold Rosson assisted by A

llen Davey and Sam

my C

ohen.

95 Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz (1939). Scenography: William A. Horning, Edwin B. Willis,Warren Newcombe and Cedric Gibbons. Cinematography: Harold Rosson assisted by Allen Davey andSammy Cohen.

96 Dead End( 1 9 3 7 ) .Scenography: R i c h a r dD a y .Cinematography: GreggToland andJ a m e sBasevi.

97-101 ‘This diagram is to give an idea of whathappens to the perspective when the cameramanchanges from one lens to another. He can forexample jump from ‘2’ to ‘4’ without moving hiscamera, while a set seen through a 75 mm lensdoes not look so spacious as when viewedthrough a 24 mm lens.’ Edward Carrick.

102-104 ‘This diagram is to help you tounderstand the two most commont move-ments of the camera-tracking and panning.Above, you see what the camera sees with a35 mm lens at six different moments duringthe continuous movement. In the plan we seehow the camera follows the figure.’ EdwardCarrick.

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 137. 1

Ibid., pp. 140&141.2

Stephen Heath, Narrative Space, in: Screen, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Autumn 1976), p. 75.3

4 Hollywood’s Cinematography: A Historiographic Background

For a better appreciation of the true form of cinematographic art in its veryyouthful days, a retrospective view on the subject of photography is expedient.Ever since the principles of the latter art form rested in the foundation of themoving pictures’ representational treatment during its birth, high realism in thephotographic documentary together with its artistic stylization granted the newmedium, since its early stages, a worldwide recognition. The newly developedphotography proved to be an effective vehicle of research in scientific matters,t hat qualified its new incarnation to invade almost every domain of life. Itsrealis t ic recording lent to the new art medium an ever-increasing popularitywherever it was introduced. Artistic visualization of the photography, during its1

innate days, was inspired from ‘the vestibules of art’, and its outcome transmitteda masked art, void of any internal realism. At that time photography signified anordinary dull art lacking any stimulation. This form of ‘salon photography’ wasexposed with its unsightliness in amateur photography and photo-reportage. Withthe anastigmatic lens and newly introduced technique, the photographic qualitygained further realism and a broader artistic vision. At the same time, the misuseof the anastigmatic lens by untutored artistic photographers, only brought up arep roduction of reality, lacking any artistic quality. Still, a handful of artistssucceeded in preserving a true art form with the new born medium. Whether2

motion picture or photography, both processes are ruled by the one apparatuscalled the camera. Photography is a process of the realistic representation ofreality in terms of static images, whereas the cinematographic transmission is theutilization of those images by means of a pictorial flux giving the impression ofmotion. This artistic output is known as a moving picture.3

When artists or men of ideas produce new interpretations and means for society,they rule out the outdated productions. Governed by the laws of nature, thesenew renditions are subject to a ceaseless process of transition. And this coversall aspects of real life, including motion picture production, because the filmmedium is the art of realistic representation, and reality is ruled by a continuousconstituency of modulation. This explains the reason behind the metamorphosis

Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hastings House 1976, p. 3.4

Ma ya Deren, Cinematography: The Creative Use of Reality, in: George Amberg (Edition), The Art of Cinema: Selected5

Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972, p. 164.

David Bordwell, The Films of Carl-Theodor Dreyer. Berkeley: University of California Press 1981, p. 37.6

R udolf Arnheim, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University7

of California Press 1954 (2 Ed. 1974), p. 37. nd

187

in Hollywood’s film language during 1910-1940, where the film stylization wentt hrough various stages, ever shifting from older and worn out rules to newermeans and measures. It was the factor that prompted the forming of the filmicstructure during this period.4

A great deal of the motion picture’s art pertains to the medium’s spatiotemporalmanipulation. Traditional film-making utilized the space as a narrative vehicle5

that promoted the action and defended its unity. Whether establishing a shot orscreen scripts, their preservation of spatial continuity was vital and saved thespace from becoming elusive. ‘Space is continuous, even across shot changes,through applications of the “axis of action” or 180 rule, the shot/reverse-shot,0

the eyeline match, and the match on action.’ Classic film depended profoundlyon the space in its narrative. ‘The serial, the slapstick comedy, the western, theadventure film, the historical epic, even the comedy of manners,’ reflectedBordwell, ‘all utilize narrative space as a site for moving humans, animals,vehicles, or natural forces.’ Conventional film practice attained spatial balanceby a symmetrical configuration while dealing with a crowd, and by centering afigure in the spatial composition. Creating an equilibrium in a given pictorial6

space is instrumental for active pictorial communication. ‘Balance’ as spelled outby Rudolf Arnheim, ‘remains the final goal of any wish to be fulfilled, any taskto be accomplished, any problem to be solved.’7

Hollywood had been accountable for boosting the inventory of aesthetic signsthat film-making had under its command. In its spatial organization,Hollywood’s stylization had easy access to the material employed in plastic art,and in the temporal sphere, Hollywood had open avenues to every age’s spirit(style). This availability allowed Hollywood to form out of a two-dimensional

S e e Maya Deren, An Anagram of Ideas on Art, Form and Film, in: George Amberg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected8

Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972, pp. 38&39.

‘This narrative was consubstantial with literal sequence of images and titles. Its mode of apprehension was preordained.9

Th e s p e c tator ‘went in’ at one end and ‘came out’ at the other, having followed a path determined with maximump re c i s i o n, as univocal as the procedures of editing, the organization of angles, shot sizes and camera movements, couldma ke it.’ Noel Burch, To the Distant Observer: Form and Meaning in the Japanese Cinema. Berkeley and Los Angeles:University of California Press 1979, p. 97.

Dziga Vertov, The Vertov Papers, tr. by Marco Carynnyk, in: Film Comment, Vol. 8, No. 1 (Spring 1972), p. 49.10

Hal Herman, Motion picture Art Direction, in: A. C., Vol. 28, No. 11 (November 1947), p. 396.11

188

image a three-dimensional one. Conventional Hollywood film attitude in its Pre-8

Code era established a high norm of narrative structure, that was settled as ameasure for any film genre or stylization to come. Noel Burch regardedHollywood’s narrative codes as elaborate and functional. For Burch, these codes‘have been so intimately associated with a mode of representation dominated bycer tain type of narrative attitude.’ The prime aim of these aesthetic signs isdes igned to provide narrative efficiency by putting the filmic spatial and itscomp osition under the beholder’s analytical control. Lending systematic andnarrative legitimacy to the assembly of these codes had its origin in the “Griffithrevolution.” Overall organic unity and unambiguous lines governed this pictorialassociation (camera angles, shot sizes, fluid camera, and cutting), and elevatedit t o be highly narrative. There upon every image in this pictorial stream iscomplimenting its neighbor and contributes to the filmic narrative as a whole.9

By synthesizing a picture, the author-editor of the film has the greatestsuggestive and most complicated assignment in this regard, comments DzigaVertov. This calls for abbreviating the lengthy amount of film-making stages toa persuasive form, and keeping the shots’ constituents as simplistic as possibleand smoothly connected to one another. Guarding this narrative equation ofs implicity permits to the beholder effective pictorial communication. But10

carrying out this accent of simplicity on the screen demands, also, closecollaboration between the cinematographer and Scenographer to allow smoothcinematographic transmission while telling the story. The level of theScenographer’s consideration of the cinematographer’s needs will pictoriallydecide whether the camera work would animate or de-animate the set. The11

cinematographer’s task, however, starts where the film Scenographer’s job ends.By then it is up to the cinematographic transformance and skills to make the set

Donald Chase, Filmmaking: The Collaborative Art. Boston: Little Brown 1975, pp. 114&115.12

Gregg Toland, Practical Gadgets Expedite Camera Work, in: A. C., Vol. 20, No. 5 (May 1939), pp. 215-218; Metro’s13

h e a d o f the camera department, John Arnold, is credited as the originator of ‘the portable soundproof camera-housing orblimp, while camera-cranes and perambulators, automatic sound and picture synchronizing systems owe their origin inp a rt o r fu lly to him. Latest invention: a rotating windshield to protect camera lenses from spray in making rain scenes.’See Nancy Naumburg, We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937, p. 273.

189

pictorially look aesthetical or not. Cinematographically, a permissive stylizationof the story-telling and its spatial organization is up to the user of the cameraapparatus to project. Any inappropriate lighting or camera angle can diminish thedramatic value of the most elaborate setting and make it ineffective. A skilledcinematographer will screen the deficiencies of the scenographic layout. Thesame is true of the character’s composition on behalf of the directorial work. TheMotion pictures’ camera is the only possible means of removing still life fromthe virtual world (interior and exterior) and making it vividly come alive. At thesame time, this cinematographic process will permit the beholder to perceive agrandeur vision of this physical reality.

What the painter’s brush strokes and technique achieves while painting an image,is comparable to the tools and techniques used by the cinematographer informing a screen image. Both artists similarly employ the effect of light tocapture some dramatic value in their images. The effect of the painter’s brushstrokes on the canvas is secured by the cinematographer’s use of various lenses.By combining the effects of light and lenses, the filmic image obtains distinctt ext ural treatment, and will be loaded with dramatic means. This makes thescreen image comparable to those of classic art. To define their own method12

when making a picture, Hollywood’s cinematographers went further than simplydeveloping their own techniques. Nearly every cinematographer in Hollywoodduring the nineteen-thirties, devised their own gadgets and technical refinementsto make the commercial equipment adaptable to each studio’s image. These newideas of mechanical improvements to the camera apparatus were fostered by thes t udios. At Goldwyn, Gregg Toland came up with new accessoriesaccommodating the studio’s needs: “filter” lights above and below the lens, ahy draulic-hoist tripod, an auxiliary step ladder, auxiliary “filter” lights, aVelocilator dolly with duralumin track, a remote control focusing system, andother novel mechanisms.13

4.1 Conventional Hollywood Cinematographic Stylization

Leo K. Kuter, Art Direction, in: Films in Review (June - July 1957), p. 249. 14

Joseph V. Mascelli, What’s Happened to Photographic Style? in: I. P., Vol. 30, No. 1 (January 1958), p. 5; by then15

the camera apparatus was literally bound to a place without any adjustment.

Charles Higham, Hollywood Cameramen: Sources of Light. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press 1970.16

pp. 13&14.

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to1 7

1960, PP. 304&306.

190

During the teen-years, sets were constructed with consideration for the fact thatthe camera operation was stationary (long-shot). ‘White lines were painted on thestage floor, to show the “camera angle,” and no actor moved outside those linesunless specifically directed to do so.’ The narrative action had to proceed withina limited space, and not exceed it. More than one of those relatively small sizesets were placed on a single stage. Producing The Squaw Man (1913) with thismethod, proved a valid success of the movie set. With it, a new tendency forintroducing more realism into film scenography was born. Until about 1915, the14

rep resentational treatment was merely a mechanical recording of the actiontaking place in front of the camera. David Wark Griffith and his cinematographerBilly Bitzer were the masters who pioneered dramatic cinematography, in whichthey experimented with light and other camera devices. Progressively, filmersnoticed that the achievement of evocative cinematography and the translation ofthe spirit of the story, would not only be a matter of artistic representation but ameans of securing better box-office revenues. Some studios invested in15

researching the field of cinematography. Others, like Universal and Paramount,did not go too far in elaborating the art of cinematographic representation.16

In t he decade prior to 1927, the average duration of a take in Hollywoodalternated between five to six seconds, and from 1928 to 1934 the shot lengthrecorded about eleven seconds. Starting in 1930, manufacturers started supplyingt he American film industry with techniques to keep the camera operatingsmoot hly. Carriages such as Perambulators, rotambulators, small cranes anddollies assisted film crews to proceed with smooth cinematography. ‘By 1933,shooting a sound film came to mean shooting a silent film with sound. By the endof 1931, the efforts of the technical agencies had succeeded, and the period ofmultiple-camera filming ended.’ During the course of the nineteen-twenties,17

Hollywood’s cinematographic stylization featured not only a sharp focus, but a

Ibid., Chapter 21, pp. 341&342.18

Rouben Mamoulian, Colour and Light in Films, in: Film Culture, Vol. 21 (Summer 1960), pp. 69&70.19

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to2 0

1960, pp. 304-308&Chapter 19.

191

soft and diffused style. The latter visualization started becoming accepted duringthe second half of the Twenties. Many factors contributed to the formulation oft his diffused cinematography. During this period, Hollywood’s softcinematographic stylization was affected by still photography’s diffused style,and by much of the technical improvements: incandescent tungsten lamps, softerlenses, filters, and light diffusers. Upon the photoplay’s switch-over to speech,18

film-making started witnessing a great setback. ‘Studios turned to stage plays fortheir material,’ reflected Rouben Mamoulian ‘and in the early years of the talkieswere quite satisfied to simply photograph those stage plays with three cameras,int ercut t he shots in the most primitive manner, and call the result: motionpictures.’ 19

During its transitional years, Hollywood’s camera philosophy conveyed restlesscamera shots by tracking the action, starting from close-up detail and settingback to a full shot, or by moving through hallways or aisles. Later in the Thirtiesand Forties, Hollywood’s cinematographic stylization carried notable deep-focuscinematography. In Lewis Milestone’s All Quiet On the Western Front (1930),20

t he camera acted as a character following the action on the battlefield whiletracking or panning. Busby Berkeley’s treatment, for instance, in 42nd Street(1933) or Gold Diggers of 1935 (1935), brought the characters from theiranonymity into a close-up shot (as recognition of their artistic contribution) andending in a total shot. Gold Digger of 1935 , Les Miserables (1935), These Three(1936), Bullets or Ballots (1936), the Green Pastures (1936), Dead End (1937),Jezebel (1938), Gone With the Wind (1939), and the most captivating of all,Citizen Kane (1941) are a few typical examples of Hollywood’s deep-focuscinematography of this period.

When compositioning in depth, the function of the composition can have variousdramatic means. It may reflect the ‘interpersonal and the intra-personal state ofcharacters’ in the scene, and this would be expressed through the relationshipbet ween characters, or between the latter and the mise-en-scenes. Oftencompositing in depth is used by film-makers to reveal irony or realism within the

Charles H. Harpole, Ideological and Technological Determinism in Deep-Space Cinema Images: Issues in Ideology,21

Technological History, and Aesthetics, in: Film Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 3 (Spring 1980), p. 15.

J u l i a n H o chberg and Virginia Brooks, The Perception of Motion Pictures, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P.2 2

Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 281.

Ray Hoadley, How They Make a Motion Picture. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell 1939, p. 52. 23

Gregg Toland, The Motion Picture Cameraman, in: Theater Arts, Vol. 25, No. 9 (September 1941), p. 648.24

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spatial composition. Filmers organized their composition in depth while dealingwith limitless space such as in the western, and employed the same principlewhile dealing with claustrophobic sets in the interior. Wide angle lenses had thereal means of stressing or exaggerating the lines of the composition in depth. Thecombination of lenses and compositional arrangement are complimentaryaesthetic signs, guiding the beholder to read the spatial composition as a unity.In guiding the beholder’s attention to the center of interest, the effect of thescenographic arrangement is sometimes equal to the characterization of thecharacters. A long-shot, while revealing the depth of a scene, ‘establishes the21

relationship between objects’, reflected Hochberg and Brooks. The shot is anorientation vehicle that guides the beholder to spatiotemporal unity. Detailedinformation related to the subject will usually follow in subsequent close-upshots. Hollywood’s narrative codes treated the space as a realistic location22

reflecting the spirit of the story and its character. This realism was manifested,for example, notably in Dead End (1937) or Stagecoach (1939). In Dead End(Illustration 96), Richard Day’s setting in depth was persuasively captured byGregg Toland’s camera work. The picture’s depth compositioning representedthe hard realism of the real world, allowing the beholder a smooth understandingof the characters’ psychological state and how their surroundings related to theirmotives for the crime. One of the fundamental assignments of the film production is telling the story viathe camera and its processes. This form of representation is an accumulation ofart and science. Thereupon, the cinematographer’s task oscillates betweencommanding the art of arranging a narrative composition, and knowing thetechnical aspects of this procedure. For artistic sake, a cinematographer must23

command three qualifications, declared Hollywood’s highly recognizedcinematographer Gregg Toland: ‘(1) the mechanics of the Camera, (2) where toplace the camera and (3) how to light the scene to be photographed.’ Toland’s24

R i c hard Koszarski, 60 Filmographies: The Men with the Movie Cameras, in: Film Comment, Vol. 8, No. 2 (Summer2 5

1972), pp. 28&29.

193

statement defined the essential means of arresting persuasively a narrative screenimage. Any miscalculation or underestimation of any of these representationalcanons would cause a definite artistic shortage in the cinematographic output.

Hollywood’s classic representational treatment is not American by origin. It isa conquest of various styles from the past and the present. Hollywood studiosadapted the excellence of foreign cinematographic stylizations, built upon olderand newer rules, and formulated them in their own vocabulary. This artisticeclecticism turned out to be paradigmatically narrative on the screen. Cameramasters from the film’s conventional period are the artists who carried the labelof t he studios onto the silver screen. Hollywood was a stage for manycinematographers from around the world: ‘when the studios weren’t borrowings t y lis tic touches from overseas they were often borrowing the camerament hemselves.’ -Karl Freund, Rudolph Mate, and Franz Planer to name only afew. Many of those who contributed to the labeling of the decade’s visual style25

were newcomers from Europe and elsewhere. Karl Freund came to Hollywoodwith a background of Germanic moving camera work, and Expressionist spatialtreatment. He achieved a remarkable adaptation to Hollywood’s needs, and laterKarl Freund’s spatial representation in The Good Earth (1937) provided a classicinterpretation, which belongs to the 1930's masterpieces. Between the influenceof German Expressionism and their own domestic vision, John J. Mescall, JohnMartin, and King Gray came up with an unmistakable horror cinematography.In The Black Cat (1934), their modified Expressionistic cinematographyaccommodated Universal’s style in its own right. The manipulation of light andshadows and the moving camera underscored the picture’s eerie atmosphere.Painted shades and fluid camera representation connected realism to the two-dimensional surface, and enhanced the horrific spirit of the picture.

When telling a filmic story, the representational treatment is challenging and notan easy process. Its mission is to translate the spirit of the story and permit thebeholder to analyze the space as scenographic. From the Scenographer andcinematographer’s professional point-of-view, they are dealing with formulae,principles and artistic equations in order to pave a smooth narrational streamt oward t he average beholder. Their prime rule and objective is to provides imp licity and narrative efficiency to the scene without the beholder asking

Quoted in Herb Lightman, Old Master, New Tricks, in: A. C., Vol.31, No. 9 (September 1950), pp. 309, 318&320.26

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, p. 20.27

William Stull, Solving the “Ice Box” Problem, in: A. C., Vol. 10, No. 6 (September 1929), pp. 7&36.28

194

“why,” and “how.” John F. Seitz, Hollywood’s veteran cinematographer, sees thecinematographic representation as a medium that must tell the filmic narrative,‘rather than to stand out as a separate artistic entity.’ 26

4.2 Camera-Angle

Ever since the emergence of the motion picture, filmers have tried to distinguishtheir work from each other through the point-of-view of their camera set-ups. Indoing so, they tried arresting their images from very narrative angles. Cameraset-ups are determined by the script, but the formula used in introducing them iswhat discriminates one cinematographic style from another; Griffith is the film-maker who refined the principles of the camera angle beyond any other filmicgrammar (cutting, close-up, and last-minute rescue). Griffith employed theseaesthetic signs to serve his aim of telling the story, and opposed shooting a scenefrom a single camera setup. He moved his camera from one vantage point toanother to keep the beholder continually informed about the essence of the scene.‘He discovered that by placing the camera at an angle to the action he couldcreate a greater dynamism than was possible in the conventional head-on shot,’so moviegoers admired and replied accordingly. Progressively in film-making,27

camera angle stylization was affected dramatically by the impact of introducingsound to the screen image. Immediately following the introduction of dialogueint o t he film, the movie camera had to be locked in a soundproof shed. Theresulting cinematography was poor in quality. Under this restricted transmissionprocedure, camera mobility had to be frozen, and, therefore, so was the cameraangle. The cinematographic output featured a displeasing “mushy” image,because of the diffusion caused by the booth’s glass window between the cameraand the set.. Shortly after this production of poor artistic quality, Metro, RKO,Goldwyn, Pathe, Paramount, Columbia and Fox studios started making varioustechnical improvements to their booths to enlighten the cinematographic process.They notably improved the soundproof booth to favor the studios’ needs whilefilming in sound.28

See Peter Dart, Figurative Expression in the Film, in: Speech Monographs, Vol. 35 (1968), p. 173.29

Arthur Edwin Krows, The Talkies. New York: Henry Holt 1930, pp. 166-67&169.30

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, p. 9. 31

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A scene taken correctly from a high or low camera angle, or placing the cameraagainst an object loaded with dramatic content next to the action in the forefront,or pointing the camera to underline a perspectival means of the shot are all validfilming possibilities, in that these give the beholder ‘abstract ideas for associationfrom elements within the shots or from elements from shot to shot.’ Thebeholder’s association with a scene will be intensified, supposing the beholderdetermines that the film-maker deliberately matched between those associatedcomponents of the shots. In shifting between camera angles or from one set up29

to the next (long, medium to close-up), the representation should occur smoothly,preserving the continuity of the narrative stream. Any change in the camera anglemust have a valid motive, otherwise it would induce elusiveness in the beholder( who would ask ‘why’ and ‘how’). The best form of bridging from one cameraangle to the next is performed during the progress of the action and not when itis at a standstill.30

A medium-shot is a typical form of conventional Hollywood cinematographicpractice, since it has the function of a re-establishing shot while bridging froma close-up or long shot. It is employed by film-makers for its narrative efficiencyin capturing the characters’ lines and movement. In witty-dialogue comedies, themedium-shot was the favored recording form, since it keeps the beholderconstantly informed about the action. With its proper distance from the scene, amedium-shot transmits the character’s facial and bodily expressions clearly.Some of Hollywood’s film-makers introduce medium-shots into their work forits simplistic transformance, and its simplicity rests in its recording at an eye-level matching the virtual world of the beholder’s eye, yet not calling for self-at tention. In the previous Chapter we have seen how Renaissance artists31

imposed an eye-level point-of-view on their canvas for the angle’s high realismand for the minimum degree of distortion of the compositions constituents.Correspondingly, unlike John Ford, Frank Capra favored the medium-shot in hispictures. Capra well understood the narrative quality of the medium-shot and itshigh realistic mid-distance composition; he balanced notably between the eye-level of the camera and the one level of illuminating his scenes that he

Ibid., pp. 11&13; the impact of a low camera angle upon the beholder is evident in sports events, as the cameras usually32

take the competition from a low angle. The action less affects most of those who attend the sporting events, because theirp o i n t - of- view is perceiving the event from a relatively high angle. This is based on the architectural arrangement of thespace holding the event.

Ibid., pp. 14&15.33

Herb A. Lightman, Realism With a Master’s Touch, in: A. C., Vol. 31, No. 8 (August 1950), p. 287.34

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considered highly perceptual. This style was evident in It Happened one Night(1934), or Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). The same visual stylization appliesto Howard Hawks. Capra and Hawks did not rebel against the constitutionalconstraints imposed on them by the studio system, and only did what they wereins t ruct ed to do. Hawks’ gangster realism, Scarface (1932), and the typicalscrewball comedy Bringing Up Baby (1938), are typical examples of functionalcinematography translated in favor of the director’s style. Hawks allowed thecamera to tell the story and capture the spirit of his scenes, rather than imposinga cinematographic stylization on his action and making it call for self-attention.

Much of any narrative action’s rhythm is usually determined by its camera angle.An image transmitted from a low angle is much different from that taken froma high angle or at eye level. Unconventional camera angles have the tendency offoreshortening or distorting the subject. By contrast to the low angle, a highcamera angle allows the beholder a grandeur look at the space. Such a point-of-view diminishes the dynamism and the power of the subject while it is beingfilmed from above. A subject taken from a high angle will induce the feeling ofentanglement and helplessness. Contrary to the high camera angle, a low angle32

creates the effect of verticality, while it distorts the length of the object, makingit looks taller and lending the character a sense of power. Low camera angles usethe spatial economically, as only a small portion of the mise-en-scene can be infocus -like a ceiling. This requires the lighting of a low-shot scene to be adirection light (side, back or front). Psychologically, a low camera angle invokest he opposite feeling of the high angle. When interior settings are33

cinematographed with a low camera angle, the set has to be roofed over. And thiswill suggest a challenge in illuminating the set, since the lighting units will beinvisible to the camera. This equation of a low angle and a Scenographic Space34

wit h a ceiling is highly narrative when it is called for. Hollywood filmersrecognized the narrative quality of this realistic formula and introduced it in theirp ict ures. Gordon Wiles’ setting and James Wong Howe’s camera work inTransatlantic (1931), and Perry Ferguson sets filmed by Gregg Toland in Citizen

Cf. Donald Howard Shoemaker, An Analysis of the Effects of Three Vertical Camera Angles and Three Lighting Ratios35

on the Connotative Judgments of Photographs of Three Human Models. Ph. D. Diss., Indiana University 1964, pp. 13,55&60.

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to3 6

1960, P. 7.

B ro o k s Peters, Monster Madness, in: The Editors of the Variety (Ed.), The Variety History of Show Business. New3 7

York: Harry N. Abrams 1993, p. 54.

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Kane (1941) are highlights of this realistic equation.

In his empirical study, Donald Howard Shoemaker proved that the dramaticeffect of a low camera angle had a far-reaching effect on its beholder comparedwith other images taken from different angles. The study revealed that an imageof a character taken from a low point-of-view contains further efficiency anddominance, and is detached from its surroundings. The same image will lookexp ressive when viewed at eye-level, and inactive when taken from a highangle. Hollywood not only used conventional camera angles in its practice, but35

unconventional angles as well. During the Thirties and Forties, Hollywood’sut ilization of steep angles was as common practice as use of conventionalangles. The utilization of steep angles was in practice only after the turbulent36

period, following the introduction of sound, came to an end. The low cameraangle’s psychological effect is at its best in the horror or gangster films. It eitherintroduces the beholder to the state of the freakish, or produces the impact of thecrime world. Camera angle orthodoxy attained a persuasively narrative effect inthe horror genre. It empowered the monster to be horrifying, since its reductionof the image’s spatial composition is abbreviated to its essence -the monster withfew indicative elements of his surroundings. In adapting these narrative codes,Frankenstein (1931), The Black Cat (1934), and The Bride of Frankenstein(1935), imposed their monstrous effect upon the beholder in exceptional fashion.In Dead End (1937), Gregg Toland introduced high and low camera anglesreflecting the discrepancies and desperation of the crime world. The introductionof an Expressionist cinematography in Dracula (1931) was borrowed from thecelebrated style of the Germanic Expressionist school. A shaded and foggyat mosphere and chiaroscuro tonal treatment combined with skewed cameraangles reflected the vampire’s spirit and horror.37

A further reason that motivates film-makers to pre-determine their camera anglesis the economical and time-saving factor. Building the set according to pre-

A. B. Laing, Designing Motion Picture Sets, in: The Architectural Record, Vol. 74 (July 1933), p. 63; John Koenig,38

Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art 1942.

Te d S e n nett, Hollywood’s Golden Year 1939: A Fiftieth-Anniversary Celebration of Great Hollywood Movies and3 9

Hollywood Musicals. New York: ST. Martin’s Press 1989, p. 27.

S e e Patrick L. Ogle, Technological and Aesthetic Influences Upon the Development of Deep Focus Cinematography4 0

in the United States, in: Screen, Vol. 13, No. 1 (Spring 1972), p. 46.

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planned camera angles and lenses will define the height and width of the set thatis int ended to be in the focus of the camera; any extension of the setting’sdimensions will be a waste of material, as it would stay out of the focus of thecamera. 38

Despite a tight time schedule, John Ford concluded Stagecoach (1939) almost onschedule. Ford made it ‘by cutting in the camera; that is, rather than shoot ascene from many angles so that the editor could enjoy flexibility in choosing theright frames, he shot and printed only what he knew in advance he wanted touse.’ T his economy in the use of the camera angles marked the master’sunparalleled style. Ford studied his camera angles well in advance. He refused39

the studio system’s cutting formula, and Ford’s way of filming established himas a master film-maker in his own right. He was always asked to supervise thecutting of his pictures. In saving in the camera angles, Ford sketched anunequaled directorial style that sustained the accent of simplicity of his pictures.

What granted deep focus cinematography high narrative quality is its consistencyin communicating a wide range of data to the beholder, in addition to its placingof the viewers at a vantage point allowing them to scan the scene, and select fromit s cues as desired without cutting. Deep focus was intended to represent adefinite imitation of theatrical interpretation, said Patrick L. Ogle, ‘both by theelimination of certain film characteristics that pointed up the fact of there beingan intermediary between viewer and performance, and’ maintained Ogle, ‘by theemployment of other inherently filmic characteristics that enhanced the theatricalsense of presence while simultaneously preventing any occurrence of thewretched ‘canned theatre’ effects of some early sound films.’ Not needing to40

give a close-up shot too much credit in the western genre, the western filmpreferably followed the schema of the establishing the long-shot. This allowedt he camera to reveal the pictorial beauty of the landscape iconography, andtranslate the aesthetic ideal of the outdoor metaphor. Long-shot rests in the heart

King Vidor, On Film Making. New York: McKay 1972, pp. 72& 73.41

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 31&34.42

‘The ‘discovery’ of the close-up’ asserted Vladimir Nilsen, ‘is usually attributed to D. W. Griffith. This, in fact, is not4 3

q u i t e a c c u ra t e , for the close-up as a dynamic photo-portrait existed before him. Griffith was the first to realize itsi mp o rt a n c e in the film’s editing context, and so was able to work out pragmatically the elementary principles of editingt h e o ry . ’ In Ibid., p. 34, fn. 1; Nilsen’s theory preserves its relevance, because the first signs of close-ups were used inlimited form in the primitive period of the film-making by Milies at “Star-Film” studio.

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of the western genre, not only because of its reflection of the spatial correlationbetween the characters and their surrounding, but for being the establishing shotorienting the beholder so as to grasp the spatial unity, after bridging from a close-up to a medium shot. As in the western, Astaire-Rogers musicals did not havemuch use for close-ups, nor for the unconventional camera angles. The genresatisfied its beholder mainly with medium and long-shots; some of Hollywood’sexecutives instructed their directors to introduce long-shots in their productions.They wanted to use the establishing shot’s revealing of the Scenographic Space’smanifestation, to show the high expenditure on their sets. MGM’s head, Louis41

B. Mayer, was among those who instructed his cinematographers to flood theirset s with light and use establishing shot, as we will see in the proceedingChapter.

During the infancy-days of film, elementary forms of the long-shot were thegenerally accepted medium in cinematography, ‘the planning of the scene wasrestricted to the general distribution of the objects in the frame limits, which wereregarded as a special form of the theater proscenium.’ Over time, the medium-shot was introduced to allow a new accent of transformance: underlining thedramatic value of certain parts of the scene while detaching it from the long-s h ot . With the introduction of the close-up into the motion picture, the4 2

conventionality of the representational treatment was emancipated from itstheatrical lines. The discovery of the unique filmic shot (close-up or facial shot)shifted the beholder’s seat closer to the mise-en-scene and the narrative action,while the selectivity of the close-up invited the beholder to be involved in thescenic interaction. In highlighting the key moments in the picture, the beholderis no longer an ‘outside observer.’ The close-up presents details of the scene andlinks them to the whole, and this peculiarity separates a close-up focus from theillustrative long-shot.43

Portraiture illustration became the popular pictorial art of the late Renaissance

David Bordwell, The Films of Carl-Theodor Dreyer. Berkeley: University of California Press 1981, p. 51.44

J o h n Robert Gregory, Some Psychological Aspects of Motion Picture Montage. Ph. D. Diss., Urbana, Illinois:4 5

University of Illinois 1961, pp. 90&91.

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, pp. 21&22.46

William Stull, Cinematography Simplified, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual, Vol. 1, Hollywood: The4 7

A me ri c an Society of Cinematographer 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), pp. 487&488.

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age, where a portrait painting reflected the personality of its character. Later in44

Baroque painting, the art of facial portraiture presented further artistic qualityand characterization to the personality of an individual; still the espousingbetween the form of portraiture shot and the motion picture has its own distinctquality. Focusing the camera on the subject (face, hand, or any other object)excludes the subject from its surrounding by the frame limits, while magnifyingit and s t ressing its dramatic means. A close-up in the motion picture has adefinite function in sustaining the narrative structure, and is qualified to stand asan art form in its own right. Griffith well realized the narrative efficiency of a45

close-up shot. He considered a shot taken in a close-up to have an incomparabledramatic suggestion greater than the best character’s interpretation in a theatricalspell. 46

Cinematographers prefer to start their opening sequence with a long-shot. Itorients the beholder to the spatial characteristics. The following shots will befocusing increasingly more closely on the narrative, therefore clarifying theaction, and this will advance to a close-up for the final shot. The Hollywoodcinemat ographer William Stull described close-up focus as ‘one of the mostpowerful means of screen story-telling.’ Assuming that the shot is taken properly,a close-up is qualified to command the beholder’s perception of any desiredaesthetic sign in the scene. On the other hand, employing a close-up where itdoes not belong can harm the picture dramatically. Logic and reason govern theuse of the close-up, and the mood of the dramatic action generally determines thefeat ure of the shot. When telling a filmic story, a close-up is the47

cinematographer’s and the character’s effective tool of dramatic expression. Afacial close-up is a resemblance of the portraiture of still photography, except itis dynamic in the film, which will allow the facial image on the camera to be

F re d J . B a l shofer and Arthur C. Miller, One Reel a Week. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press4 8

1967, p. 193.

Rudolf Arnheim, Film as Art. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1957, pp. 18&19.49

Le w i s Jacobs, Close-Ups and Long Shots, in: Willard D. Morgan (Ed.), The Complete Photographer, Vol. 2, New5 0

York: National Educational Alliance 1942, p. 782.

John Alton, Painting with Light. New York: The Macmillan 1949, pp. 80-85.51

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recorded from various angles. This will occur either by moving the camera48

around the character while the latter is stationary, or the other way around, or bymoving both the camera and the character simultaneously.

An image or object’s size on the screen relates immediately to the cameradistance from the subject. ‘The smaller the section of real life to be brought intothe picture,’ related Arnheim, ‘the nearer the camera must be to the object, andthe larger the object in question comes out in the picture -and vice versa.’ Lewis49

Jacobs observed the feature of the shot from another analytical point-of-view:‘The chief function of the close-up is to particularize; the chief function of thelong shot is to generalize.’ In looking closely at the characteristics of bothcamera set-ups, Jacobs extrapolated: ‘The close-up, in excluding unwantedportions of the subject, focuses attention only on what is important and makesthat clearer through magnification.’ On the other hand, he proceeded, ‘The longshot, by including all of the subject, focuses attention upon its broader aspectsand makes that clearer through reduction.’ 50

When setting a close-up shot, its angle (frontal, profile or three-quarter), size,s imp lification of the fore-background composition, and its message must bet aken into close consideration. The portraiture shot on the classical screen51

contributed significantly to the fame and prestige of the stars and their studiosduring the era of the studio system. Hollywood cinematography recorded thes t ars’ facial expressions from profile, frontal and three quarter angles, whichsustained the narrative and artistic quality of the screen story in the decade thatfollowed the emergence of talking motion pictures. While dealing with a spatialcomposition, a close-up focus contains the Scenographic Space and excludesevery thing else, except the one or few objects in focus at the frame’s limits, andfills the screen with that abbreviated composition of the spatial arrangement. Thismakes the close-up shot an unreliable means for the beholder’s spatialorientation unless it is followed up with a medium or long-shot.

See Edward Branigan, Formal Permutations of the Point-of-View Shot, in: Screen, Vol. 16, No. 3 (Autumn 1975), p.5 2

55.

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 36&37.53

Alfred Guzzetti, Narrative and the Film Image, in: New Literary History, Vol. 6, No. 2 (Winter 1975), p. 382.54

Ezra Goodman, Production Designing, in: A. C., Vol. 26, No. 3 (March 1945), p. 82.55

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A p oint-of-view is understood as a camera set-up predicted to resemble thevant age s tandpoint of a character, and what the character is looking at. In52

es t ablishing the camera’s point-of-view, the cinematographer defines theperceptual level between the beholder and the subject. This interactive dramaticaccent (beholder-object) alternates according to the shift in the camera angle. Acamera angle has decisive meaning in structuring the spatial composition and itsp erspectival value, since these are arranged in the space in various planes,distances and positions from the camera. Determining the camera angle anddis tance from the subject is ‘a primary form of organizing the shot space.’53

Furthermore, an unusual camera angle may orient the beholder to the characters’comp osition and its organization in the scene. If an angle recording twocharacters interacting in a scene did not match with anything we experience inreality, that angle would still provide the beholder with sufficient informationrelated to characters’ placement in the scene, and this helps the beholder to grasphow these characters’ viewpoints are arranged in the space. The camera angle54

provides the beholder not only with unique data related to a group compositionin the Scenographic Space, but to the setting, and puts the spatial under thebeholder’s analytical control.

William Cameron Menzies demonstrated a unique scenographic technique in hissketches. He provided, as he preferred to say, a “pre-staging” of the film story,i.e., t ranslation of the script in terms of images. Menzies’ layout techniqueunderlined dramatically the visual aspect of any picture he dealt with, and thisgranted Menzies to be a considerable reference for the cinematographer.55

M enz ies realized the narrative efficiency of his story-boarding in hisscenographic stylization. As we saw earlier (Chapter 2), each frame of hissketches was resembled on the film celluloid by the cinematographer, becauseM enz ies predetermined the camera angle, composition, illumination andperspective, and even specified to the cinematographer the feature of the lensrequired for the scene. A master such as Menzies made everyone else’s job much

Eustis Morton, Designing for the Movies: Gibbons of MGM, in: Theatre Arts, Vol. 21, No. 10 (October 21, 1937), p.56

786.

Ibid., p. 791.57

James Wong Howe, Upsetting Traditions With “Viva Villa”, in: A. C., Vol. 15, No. 2 (June 1934), p. 64.58

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eas ier during the production. These artistic analogies were manifested in TheIron Mask (1929), Bulldog Drummond (1929), and most strikingly in Gone Withthe Wind (1939).

Unlike a setting for the stage that is comparable, while viewed by the beholder,to a pictorial artwork in a frame, the setting for the motion picture is and must bearranged to be viewed from various angles. When starting, said Cedric Gibbons,the film Scenographer should consider envisioning the set from various angles,while the camera would transmit it from many points-of-view to the beholder.This requires the set’s dramatic composition to be accurate from every angle fort he camera take. For Gibbons, the set originator ‘must have the fundamentalapproach of the architect-cameraman.’ Gibbons continued in stating that the filmScenographer ‘must relate it [the set] not only to the drama which evoked it butto the camera that will photograph it. For no set in pictures is any better than itappears to be on the screen.’ The film Scenographer is required to plan the56

setting in terms of camera angles and architectural forms. Suppose the script is57

calling for an eye-level camera take, then the film Scenographer is required toarrange a normal setting with standard dimensions. Yet for a low or high cameraangle the set’s dimensions must undergo certain deformation. Shooting the setfrom a considerably low angle dictates higher walls in order to underline thedrama of the shot, and building the set’s walls to their specified height will beeffective in the section where the shooting will take place, but not necessarywhere it will not . This permits the cinematographer to illuminate the set moreproperly to suit the action, and be economical. Shooting the set from a high anglemay necessitate the erection of lower walls than normal. That means a closeconferring between the Scenographer and cinematographer in order to bring thishigh dramatic visualization into being. Finally, introducing false perspective in58

t he set restricts the point-of-view of the camera. False perspective is moreappropriate for reflecting the characters’ state of mind than normal perspective,but it confines the camera set-ups to one or two angles, and this will impose a

James Mitchell Leisen, Some Problems of the Art Director, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 12, No. 33 (1928), p. 77.59

S c ott Baldinger, Hollywood Talks!, in: The Editors of he Variety (Ed.), The Variety History of Show Business. New6 0

Y o rk: Harry N. Abrams 1993, pp. 46&47; Kenneth W. Leish, Cinema. New York: Newsweek Books 1974, p. 68; LewisJacobs, The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History. New York: Teachers College Press 1939, p. 435.

Th o ma s W . B o hn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion6 1

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 214.

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monotonous representation of the scene. This kind of cinematographic59

s t y liz ation is at its best in Expressionist visual stylization. In Hollywood’srealistic period of the Golden Age, this visual approach was not a common film-making tradition, and most of the spatial and cinematographic treatments wereused to accommodate realistic cinematography that was based on shooting thepragmatic setting from various angles.

4.3 Fluid-Camera: Spatial Representation

With the advent of sound, mobile camera representation had to be frozen -ass t at ed previously. Stationary and unselective microphones imposed drasticlimitations on the dynamic composition, and the elementary form of cutting madethe problem worse. Action had to proceed within confined space not exceedingthe camera range (like a static stage). Out of this, films had to be produced ‘onlyindoors.’ The camera had to be locked in a booth keeping the noise of its motorout of reach of the microphone, and the latter was hidden between the mis-en-scenes to be as close to the sound source as possible. Actors had to talk directlyint o the microphone. Cinematographers tried to overcome these technical60

arrests by employing multiple camera shots. Four cameras were employed torecord one take. ‘At times this required ten or more changes on the close-upcamera for one ten-minute scene.’ By the early 1930's, when some laboratorial61

restrictions were settled, moving camera technique gradually started regainingits artistic quality.

With the increasing popularity of western pictures, the action started getting evermore liberated from being locked within the limits of the static frame. Today’smoving camera cinematography borrowed its concept from the western’s chaserecording, when the camera used to be carried on a truck driving through thedesert while filming. Smooth camera operation is essential in thisrepresentational technique, as the jerky patterns of the apparatus may harm the

See Herb A. Lightman, The Fluid Camera, in: A. C., Vol. 27, No. 3 (March 1946), pp. 82&102.62

Raymond Durgnat, The Restless Camera, in: Films and Filming, Vol. 15, No. 3 (December 1968), pp. 14&17.63

S e e ibid., p. 14; when it came to the use of a hand-held camera, Hollywood regarded this cinematographic tradition6 4

b e n e a t h t h e s t u dios’ opulent stylization, therefore it is rare to experience hand-held camera shots made in Hollywood;ibid., p. 17.

Cedric Gibbons, Motion Picture Sets, in: The Encyclopaedia Britannica. 14 Ed., 1929-1939, p. 859.65 th

David Bordwell, Classical Hollywood Cinema: Narrational Principles and Procedures, in: Phillip Rosen (Ed.),6 6

Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology: A Film Theory Reader. New York: Columbia University Press 1986, pp. 26&27.

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narrative stream more than helping it. Historically, from the early 1920's,62

mobile camera cinematography started gaining an increased popularity inHollywood film practice. It continued until around the late 1940's, by which timefilmers had started working with less moving-camera; this particular cameratransformance kept film critics busy all of the time. Some criticism went as faras to compare moving-camera technique with the human body: when dollying,it resembles a person walking into or out of a space. When the camera apparatuspans from one side of the screen to another, it is comparable to the head turningfrom left to right or, conversely, it may tilt like the head looking up or down.63

A camera, like a head, may induce a combination of tracking while panning andtilting to give a sudden pitch, move about in searching for something, swerve,totter or wave. All these may occur because the camera is pursuing the center ofconcern, without calling the beholder’s awareness to these techniques.Occas ionally a fluid camera still calls for self-attention. ‘If not following animportant subject, or if the back-and foreground to that subject is conspicuouslyin movement, then the spectator becomes aware of movement in its own right.’64

Mobility of the camera invokes the impression of a stereoscopic image to thebeholder that is unobtainable with a stationary shot. In the classic narrative65

s t ylization, moving-camera representation had the paradigm of representingintelligible three-dimensional space. In the early Thirties, after some technical66

improvements started getting introduced into the American studios, Hollywoodstarted bridging its crisis by gaining more dynamic in the spatial representationthan ever before. Some film-makers went to a high degree of artificiality withtheir fluid-camera, believing in its narrative qualification, while at the same timecomplying with the rules of the story-telling. Today film critics speak of theLubitschian traveling camera. This is true when observing Lubitsch’s pictures

Daniel Cohen, Musicals. New York: Bison Books 1984, p. 19.67

Tony Thomas, That’s Dancing! New York: Harry N. Abrams 1984, p. 110.68

Phillip J. Kaplan, The Best, Worst & Most Unusual: Hollywood Musicals. New York: Beekman House 1983, p. 10.6 9

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from the transitional period and early Thirties. In his One Hour With You (1932),he went to the extreme of dollying and panning the camera while framing theaction. Unlike John Ford or Howard Hawk’s pragmatic narrative, Ernst Lubitschimposed a cinematographic stylization on his scenes, and let the camera circlethe scenic narrative rather than allowing his characters to command the action,or keep the mobility subordinate to the characters’ movements. Busby Berkeleydid the same in his kaleidoscopic choreography in Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933),and Dames (1934), to name only a few. To cover his abstract pattern made of ahuman element, Berkeley adapted impressive moving-camera technique, and hiscamera searched and waved over his dancers using extreme angles (bird’s-eyeview angles) to reveal the abstracted compositions of the choreographers. Thisspatial representation revolutionized the beholder-proscenium relationship: thebeholder was cruising with the camera’s point-of-view anywhere it was traveling.Berkeley kept the beholder well-informed and oriented in regard to the narrativeaction, and his camera movement yielded simplicity by invoking unambiguousand united space.

Berkeley recognized that what the beholder saw on the screen is what the cameraeye had recorded, and accordingly he excelled in utilizing the camera in hiss t ory t elling and taking of his choreographic patterns. Berkeley opposed theinfluence of film-cutters to instruct his filming technique- he only did what hecons idered to be narrative. Richard Day was the film Scenographer who67

advised Berkeley to compose his dynamic composition according to the cameraeye, which is unlike the human’s, in being solitary. This was suggestive enoughfor Berkeley to compose his composition appropriately, and concentrate on thecamera while shooting his composition. Berkeley adeptly understood the68

narrative efficiency of a dynamic composition, and its exceeding narrativequality compared with the static one. He realized how instrumental a moving-camera representation could be in transmitting his dynamic composition, andcorrespondingly he kept his composition in a continuous flux, recorded with arestless camera from various angles. That kept Berkeley’s crowded composition69

grouped together and not scattered all over the space, keeping it within range of

See Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hastings House 1976, pp. 380&424.70

D o n Li v i n g ston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillan 1953, pp.7 1

50&51.

Ibid., pp. 74&75.72

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the camera focus.

Alt hough mobile camera cinematography equips the filmic art with furthernarrative quality, it can be elusive and it might challenge the communicationalstream or the message of the screen story. ‘Successful screen movement lies inknowing not only how to create it but when and why [my italic].’ Moving-camerarep resentation has its vitality, pace, timing, length, and direction. If themovement of the camera is dominant in the filming, the action may reflectexhilaration or violence. On the contrary, a scene loaded with emotional linesneeds the suspension of all the movements of the camera. In short, the narrativeact ion dictates the mobility rhythm of the camera. A balance between the70

camera mobility and the focus of attention is highly recommended. Cameramovement can dramatically either sustain the narrative or torture the viewers bymaking them feel dizzy. In film production, introducing fluid-camera is fairlyuncommon while filming a static subject; if the camera waves in searching forsomething over standstill mise-en-scenes in well arranged Scenographic Space,the shot would create the impression of a mystery. This unique cinematographywill call for the beholder’s curiosity to search with the camera for that which ismissing. One form of camera mobility may well sustain the one picture, but lendthe other a different dramatic interpretation, i.e., every picture needs its ownt ailored cinematographic pace. When the camera was searching Charles D.71

Hall’s setting at the beginning of The Black Cat (1934), the impression of themysterious was manifest. John J. Mescall and King Gray’s camera was mergingfrom the living space through the hallway to the house door, which outlined theopen spatial conception and the coming of the unknown. The moving cameraillustrated, in the beholder’s mind, the attributes of the set as it was searching itsway to the entrance, suggesting the mood of impending horror.

Jus t as an unnecessary movement of the camera can harm the scene, acombination of moving shots may create a higher probability of mistakes andeventually of retaking the scene, because the concentration of the film-maker hasto be distributed on the many functions of the camera simultaneously. Spatial72

C f. David Bordwell, Camera Movement and Cinematic Space, in: Cine Tracts, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Summer 1977), p. 20.7 3

Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, pp. 121&122.74

Ed ward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed.,7 5 nd

Designing for Films, 1949), p. 24.

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representation lies at the core of moving-camera transformance. Fluid-cameraprocess is an association of both aesthetical and technical languages. ‘The verynotion “camera” already situates us not before the cinema screen, but in a filmstudio, in production surroundings which include a mechanism called a camera.’When t he camera takes a pro-filmic scene, it follows a course of movementwhich might be panning, tilting or dollying. Correspondingly the mobility of thecamera together with the cinematographed subject ‘are recorded by the cameraitself, to be re-presented on the screen.’ As much as moving-camera treatment73

is a valid technique in representing an absent space, while revealing thecorrelationship between the spatial attributes in the scene, it can frequently havea subjective impression. ‘The movement of the camera draws attention to theimaginary observer whose movement it reproduces. The content of the shot isseen, not directly, but through the eyes, as it were, of someone who is reactingto that content in a certain way.’ By not relating the spatial properties to eachother, it will make its definite quality difficult to appraise.74

Moving-camera representation demands its own concept of scenographictranslation, different from that used on the stage, and one which is viewed fromt he beholder’s stationary seat, angle and fixed distance. And nothing will beviewed in detail. When filming, the camera highlights certain portions of the set,and these should be reproduced with extra care to convey a dramatic close-upshot. In this regard, the details’ composition in the setting is dramatically equalto that of the long-shot. Occasionally fluid-camera representation is more of an75

agonizing apparatus rather than a narrative vehicle to the beholder, unless cameramobility is sustaining the spatial unity and therefore the spirit of the film story.Traveling camera representation is meaningless if not distracting. The symbolismof acrobatic rotation or subjective movement of the camera is a geometric mazeand more of a poor art, making the beholder feel ill-at-ease or confused. Abalanced combination of stationary and mobile camera cinematography canheighten the communicational stream. This cinematographic technique serves thebeholder with the most sensitive information about the Scenographic Space,

Gerald Mast, A Short History of the Movies. Indianapolis: Pegasus 1971, p. 67.76

J u l i a n H o chberg and Virginia Brooks, The Perception of Motion Pictures, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P.7 7

F ri e d ma n (Ed . ) , Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 274;Laurence Goldstein and Jay Kaufman, Into Film. New York: E. P. Dutton 1976, P. 175.

Lewis Herman, A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and Television Films. New York and7 8

Scarborough: New American Library 1952, pp. 106&110.

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because of the technique’s craft to wrest the spatial attributes from theiranonymity and re-announce the spatial unity as an unambiguous narrative place.This is among the decisive aesthetic signs that has helped the motion pictures’scenographic art succeeding where theatrical staging did not.

4.3.1 Reframing: Panning Shot

Cinematographing with a traveling camera is nearly as old as film itself. DavidW. Griffith well understood the dramatic means of panning the camera, whenused in forming a picture. The shot’s narrative quality lies not only in panningthe camera from the left to the right of the screen, or conversely in keeping adynamic composition framed and reframed all times, but additionally, in panningthe camera to deliver a narrative feeling of motion to the beholder. ‘The eye issensitive to such shifts in the field of vision and it telegraphs this sensitivity tothe brain, which translates it into a physical sensation.’ By definition, panning76

the camera is a cinematographic mechanism achieved by swiveling the cameraon the “Tripod Head”, to frame a moving subject while the apparatus remainsfixed on its tripod. A part of the composition occluded in the one shot would stillbe covered in the next framing. The camera pace is relative -it does not have acertain formula- when it turns from one side to another on the screen. The pan77

shot operates smoothly. The security and practicality of the shot secured itscommon use among film-makers. Framing an action with a pan shot (panoramicview) can sustain the narrative ideally for the beholder to perceive.

A pan shot is only worthy if there is an assured motive for using it. The shot iswell-suited in chasing scenes across the landscapes of western pictures. Unlikethe panning process of the camera, the human eye cannot scan the space with allits attributes smoothly , is selective in its operation and jumps from one point ofinterest to the next. Through this visual selectivity, many of the view’s detailsescape the eye’s attention. As much as it is narrative in the establishing long-78

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 103&104.79

Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hastings House 1976, p. 385.80

S ee David Bordwell, Camera Movement and Cinematic Space, in: Cine Tracts, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Summer 1977), p. 25.8 1

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shot, panning the camera has equal narrative efficiency in the close-up andmedium-shots. In these, it reveals smoothly the cause-effect relationship: if twocharacters are having a conversation, the camera uses reaction pan by pullingback from figure “A” to capture the reaction of figure “B.” In Stagecoach79

(1939), panning the camera lent additional credit to the chasing scene’s narrativebecause it permits the beholder a panoramic view of a dynamic compositionbacked up with the iconography of Monument Valley and its beauty.

During its horizontal panning, the camera frames various static subjects. Thecamera may achieve a swivel-turn of up to 180 degrees, which can increase to aswish-pan of 360 degrees, but that would seem to be too artificial a shot.Sup p os ing the course of panning the camera is too slow, then the shot willbecome boring and cause the beholder to lose interest in the image. If the shot istoo fast, it will not allow the beholder to draw some analysis related to the sceneand its attributes. ‘At the highest speeds, or with abrupt and unpredictable80

s t op ping and starting, acceleration and declaration, a pan shot can make itdifficult to read a space as scenographic.’ Yet when reading the screen image, anexaggerated character swivel or flux of abstract patterns speeding rapidly fromone side to another on the screen, can cause mental stress for the beholder. Apuzzled representational treatment of camera mobility would not permit to thebeholder sufficient data about the unity of the Scenographic Space nor theimage. On a large screen process, where the spatial attributes are assigned with81

great er dimensions, a pan take will induce the feeling of an exaggeratedmovement. This effect creates the illusion of three-dimensionality in the space,and invites the beholder definitely to be involved in the movement related to thescenic action. ‘An excessive use of these shots’ correlated the AmericanScenographer Oliver Smith, ‘produces dizziness or a kind of sea-sickness on thepart of the audience which is not at all helpful in viewing a [Scenographer’s]work.’ Moving the camera should be adapted to the beholder’s perceptualcapacity. It should not convey a pure mechanical proceeding of unrelated andartificial angles, which can easily call the beholder’s attention to the “cleverness”

Oliver Smith, Musical Comedy Design for Stage and Screen, in: Oliver K. Larson (Ed.), Scene Design for Stage and8 2

Screen. East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University Press 1961, pp. 194&195.

Gerald Mast, A Short History of the Movies. Indianapolis: Pegasus 1971, pp. 67&68. 83

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 105&106.84

Ibid., p. 106.85

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of the cinematographic apparatus. In panning the camera, film-makers usually82

save themselves from interruptive cutting between shots. They yield a continuityof act ion and an unambiguous space. During the 1930's, the pan shot was acommonly used practice in Hollywood film-making. Panning the camera servedas essential narrative vehicle in the telling of the film story on the classic screen.

4.3.2 Tracking-Dollying: Perambulator Camera Shot

Griffith realized the narrative quality that could be produced by the travelingcamera (or tracking shot). Griffith introduced this shot sparingly only to stresscert ain highlights in his narrative actions. The shot is qualified to transmit ahighly narrative efficiency of physical movement to the screen. The tracking shotis understood as ‘the perfect tool for communicating the internal excitement ofpeople riding rushing trains and galloping horses and racing wagons.’ Dolly or83

tracking shot is the term applied today to any shot using a carriage vehicle whilerecording a pro-filmic scene. It is effective in the resemblance of a ‘time-consuming point-of-view’: suppose a character is looking for something; thedolly stretches the scene, but accentuates the mood of the action. The techniqueof an unanticipated pull-back dolly is constructive in surprising the beholder ort he character because of its sudden exposition of an unexpected event. The84

dolly is a narrative vehicle in inducing an ironic discrepancy between the spokenwords and mise-en-scenes in the scene, i.e., it may provide the beholder withcounter- evidence of what the character is asserting in the scene. In addition, adolly provides the beholder with information which the character does not have.Psy chologically it permits film-makers to serve the audience with somethinghighly dramatic, and prepare their awareness that it is about to happen. Ernst85

Lubitsch well understood the narrative quality of dollying the camera. With thistechnique he was able to stretch his scenes into being more pictorial, and to avoidthe trouble of the dialogue recording in his early sound pictures. In his comedyOne Hour with You (1932), slowly dollying the camera enhanced the narrative

Ibid., p. 105; Julian Hochberg and Virginia Brooks, The Perception of Motion Pictures, in: Edward C. Carterette and8 6

Mo rt o n P . F riedman (Ed.), Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p.274; Laurence Goldstein and Jay Kaufman, Into Film. New York: E. P. Dutton 1976, p. 274.

Eric Sherman (Ed.), Directing the Film: Film Directors on their Art. Boston: Little, Brown 1976, p. 108. 87

Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, p. 123.88

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quality of the picture by permitting the beholder to be close to the most intimateinformation related to the characters. The dolly followed the characters into theirchamber and in doing so, the camera provided the beholder with unambiguousinformation related to the spatial unity and its characteristics. Gordon Avil andKing Vidor introduced persuasive tracking shots in the early all-black soundmelodrama Hallelujah (1929), revealing the character’s state of mind whileescap ing through the swamp. The dolly shot was among the most narrativevehicles in the story-telling of Astaire-Rogers musicals during the course of theninet een-thirties. Dollying the camera permitted the beholder to study thescenographic attributes of Art Deco and the Streamlined Art Moderne in thesurroundings of the musicals and their characters.

With a dolly carriage, the camera records the action smoothly by traveling ontracks inward, outward, or within the set. In dollying the camera, bridging thep ace from one composition to the next is relative in the shot. Sending the86

beholder a true narrative effect of a dolly shot, requires that the camera musttravel passing a subject; otherwise dollying the camera is ineffective. Passing byan object when dollying the camera, is what invokes the feeling of the object’sroundness. ‘We’d take certain buildings -buildings with pillars- and get awonderful effect going past those pillars if we dollied’ stated Allan Dwan. ‘Thepillars seemed to revolve but they got solid because as you went around themyou had the feeling that they were of substance and not just flat.’ A tracking87

shot reserves its narrative quality by enhancing the depth cue of the spatial.When dollying the camera, objects in their various planes will appear to bemoving at various speeds, i.e., closer objects to the camera lens seem to havegreater velocity than those in the background. Like in other forms of the fluidcamera (tilting or panning), dollying may remedy the limitations dictated by thefixed limits of the frame, by framing and reframing the composition. 88

In telling a filmic story, the dolly shot provides smooth and uninterruptednarrative action, which meant the displacement of the complicated floor-lighting

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 30, No. 3 (March 1938), p. 294.89

J u l i a n H o chberg and Virginia Brooks, The Perception of Motion Pictures, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P.9 0

Friedman (Ed.), Handbook of Perception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 276.

Cf. Eugene R. Wist, H. C. Diener, J. Dichgans, and Th. Brandt, Perceived Distance and the Perceived Speed of Self-9 1

Motion: Linear vs. Angular Velocity? in: Perception & Psychophysics, Vol. 17, No. 6 (1975), pp. 549-554.

213

equipment with one mounted ‘upon the lamp-rails above the set.’ Carrying out89

the process of a smooth dolly or tracking shot needs flat space. In operating in,out or within the Scenographic Space with a dolly, the camera may combine theshot with another moving technique, or retain the same set-up of thecomposition. Its pace of motion depends on the rhythm of the dramatic action.A chase scene needs a speedy vehicle like those of the western, where both thesubject and the camera are in motion. Some of Hollywood cinematographerswere known for their skillful handling of the mobile camera: Sol Polito, forinstance, landmarked his filming stylization with mobile camera cinematography.Polito’s 42nd Street (1933) and Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), are highlights offluid camera representation. Sidney Franklin first introduced the semi-dolly shotwhile roller-skating with a hand-held camera for filming Marion Davis in QualityStreet (1927), and James Wong Howe reused the same semi-dollying techniqueof a hand-held camera and roller-skating in order to smoothly circle the fighter’sscene in Body and Soul (1931).

A tracking shot feeds the beholder with sufficient data about the setting’s depthcue and arrangement of its mise-en-scenes. But it does not grant the beholderwit h ‘vestibular and other proprioceptive information.’ This perceptualreservation would invite the beholder ‘to traverse the course followed by thecamera.’ Perceiving an optokinetic stimulus from a close distance on a wide90

screen would lead the beholder to the assumption of undergoing a pure self-referred motion. Under these conditions the beholder may undergo dizziness andslight nausea. In this, the beholder’s peripheral perception -in relation to the widefield of vision or screen- has an immediate relationship with the beholder’s senseof vestibular velocity. Still, when a stationary beholder views a vast stimulus91

stream progressing with an unvarying tendency, e. g., wide screen orcircumambient film production, he will experience a sense of ‘moving in anopposite direction while the scene itself may appear to stop moving. Paradoxes,in the sense that the physical description appears to disagree with the perceptualreport,’

Cf. Richard Held, Johannes Dichgans and Joseph Bauer, Characteristics of Moving Visual Scenes Influencing Spatial9 2

Orientation, in: Vision Research, Vol. 15 (1975), pp. 357-365.

Laurence Goldenstein and Jay Kaufman, Into Film. New York: E. P. Dutton 1976, p. 190; L. Giannetti, Understanding93

Movies, p. 112.

Ibid., p. 113.94

S t u a rt M. Kaminsky, The Use and Abuse of the Zoom Lens, in: Filmmakers Newsletter, Vol. 5, No. 12 (October 9 5

1972), pp. 22&23.

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mean that the beholder will experience a sense of self-motion and slight tiltinginto the other side of the motion trend. 92

4.3.3 Zoom Shot

Every filmic event can be carried out on the screen in one form ofcinematographic stylization or another. Zooming the camera is a uniquetechnique for arousing the effect of tracking or craning with a stationary camera.It is a process of the unification of various lenses, with a single set-up. Zoomingthe camera assigns a range of focuses from a close-up to telephoto. The zoomingshot’s narrative quality rests in the shot’s sudden inclusion or expulsion of thebeholder in or from the scene, and is economical and a time saver compared tocrane and dolly shots. While crane and dolly shots call up the feeling of moving93

into or out of the three-dimensional Scenographic Space and allowing the spatialat t ribut es to flood around the edges of the screen, zooming the camera willflatten the image’s perspective, foreshorten the characters and cause the edgesof the image to vanish. By not permitting the impression of entering the space,zooming in allows the effect of throwing some of the spatial attributes toward thebeholder, which will be obvious in lengthier shots. Introducing the zoom shot94

in a telling filmic story has various forms in film-making: ‘Zoom can be used fortracking. ... to emphasize distance. ... search out figures in a broad space. ... forsudden dramatic emphasis. ... to express psychological reaction through the eyesof a character. ... moving into freeze frames. ... for special effects.’ Such as these,it can reflect a state of mind, and ‘ can be used to replace other lenses.’95

By pulling back from a setting’s details, zooming the camera isolates a portionof the set to underline a point in context, not to separate it from the rest to createa new whole. The prime application of a zoom is its motion into or out of spacet o bring a scene from a distance and take it close to the beholder. It cannot

Paul Joannides, The Aesthetic of the Zoom Lens, in: Sight and Sound, Vol. 40, No. 1 (Winter 1970/71), pp. 40&41.96

Ibid., p. 40.97

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, p. 7.98

Paul Joannides, The Aesthetic of the Zoom Lens, in: Sight and Sound, Vol. 40, No. 1 (Winter 1970/71), pp. 40&41.99

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survive as an independent filmic form. ‘It is a function, not a form.’ By contrastto all other forms of the fluid camera, zooming is internal to the camera and notexternal. When zooming, the camera wraps the space inward to the camera orout ward from the apparatus, instead of penetrating through. It can easily bedifferentiated from tracking even if the shot is brief. Unlike any other movingcamera technique, the zooming shot does not pay any respect to the canons ofperspective in recording a space. In the 1930's and 1940's, Hollywood rarely96

used zooming in film production, but there are nontheless some quite narrativeexamples. Leon Shamroy admitted introducing a zoom shot in La Cava’s PrivateWorlds (1935). It was not until the 1960's that zoom and telephoto startedemerging as a new visual translation in telling a moving picture story. As early97

as in Love Me Tonight (1932), Victor Milner and Rouben Mamoulian introducedtwo zoom shots in the opening scene of a ‘Paris Waking,’ in which the cameraresembled the point-of-view of Maurice Chevalier looking up to the landmarksof the city: one to a chimney and the other at a character in the window. Duringt he 1930's, when American film-makers used a zooming shot, they skillfullyincorp orated it with the narrative of telling the story and made it a smoothrepresentation.

How much of a subject should be placed in the frame is the common questionwhen planning a shot. Yet a shot is not always planned according to the rangebet ween the camera and the object, as some lenses have a notable degree ofdistance distortion. In this regard, a telephoto lens has the capacity of producinga close-up focus while still being far away from the object. Zoom and telephoto98

lenses share a limitless series of gradations in their set-ups. The zoom shot’s keenapplication is to record the dynamic of a composition, whereas a telephoto shotis more proper for framing a static composition. Sometimes a telephoto shot canbe the only dramatic means available in capturing a close-up. The telephoto, liket he z oom shot, it is not qualified to survive on its own as a filming form.99

T elephoto has its dramatic meaning ‘when drama is dependent on space;’ inanot her respect it is employed for the panoramic aesthetic that the lens can

Ibid., pp. 41&42.100

Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hastings House 1976, p. 475.101

Ibid., p. 476.102

See Arthur Graham, Zoom Lens Technique, in: A. C., Vol. 44, No. 1 (January 1963), pp. 28-30.103

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provide. It disrespects the spatial depth cue in front of and behind the point ofinterest, which would be blurred. The shot reduces the natural world to forms‘instead of being made up of objects,’ in that the subjects’ contoural outlines aretransformed into a mass of tones. The telephoto would agglomerate the detailsinto a form of unity, not allowing them to have their equal artistic quality as inan environment of deep focus. 100

In shooting the same set with a zoom and tracking shot, the main dissimilaritybet ween both is manifested in the image’s output. A zoom lens deforms theproportions of the spatial qualities equally, because the tracking shot aggrandizesthe scenographic dimensions mainly in the foreground more than it does in thebackground. A slowly taken zoom has a unique narrative quality; approaching101

the subject in this manner will invite the beholder to be involved in the narrativeaction. Speedy zooms create a surprising effect and pronounce exact punctuationon the subject in focus by isolating it from its surroundings. A combination ofs low-fas t-slow zooms is highly narrative when shifting the lens from onedramatic extreme to the next, within the range of the focus. Finally, the zoomshot will be at it best if it operates in short sections rather than in long ones. Itwill not call for self-attention when the zoom is balancing between its rhythmand the framing of the dynamic composition. 102

If mounting the camera on a dolly operates from and toward the beholder, orconveys a consistency between the moving subject and the space, then the zoomshot may supplant the in and out movement of the tracking shot, but it cannotresemble the same dramatic effect of giving the beholder the impression ofapproaching or distancing from the subject in the space. ‘This feeling of being“ ins ide,” pronounced the English film author Arthur Graham, ‘is due to thechanging perspective, which resembles that which would be experienced innormal life as one moved in a similar manner.’ By contrast to tracking, the zoomshot keeps the beholder outside the space. Here, the beholder is a mere observerand not deeply involved in the scene. Frequently exchanging a dolly shot with103

S t u a rt M. Kaminsky, The Use and Abuse of the Zoom Lens, in: Filmmakers Newsletter, Vol. 5, No. 12 (October1 0 4

1972), pp. 20&21.

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, p. 105; David Bordwell, Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading,105

Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley 1979, p. 122.

217

a zoom is a common convention in the filmic practice that has received clearobjections from a broad base of film investigators. The above-stated is inclinedto be appraised both critically and as being a valid sight simultaneously if weapprove that the dolly operation from and toward the beholder, by maintainingt he same set-up of the camera, is unchallengeable. The question of zoomingshould be focused on ‘when’ and not on ‘whether’ to employ it in telling a filmstory. But the zoom should not be applied simply because it is handy to use.104

F inally, zooming the camera can have an elaborate introduction in placing anestablishing shot while recording a documentary, or in a dangerous scene thatotherwise would not have been possible to record with a conventional close-upor medium shot. The same is true for recording a scene across a river bed oruneven locations, where other techniques would not have the same flexibility aszoom does. The question of whether zooming the camera is doable in featurepictures or not, is a matter of drama, artistic vision and skills.

4.3.4 Tilting Shot

Keeping the subject within the frame limits sometimes calls for vertical rotationor tilting motion of the camera. This cinematographic mechanism defines astationary camera with vertical rotation on a horizontal axis that introduces thesensation of scanning the image from the top to the bottom or conversely.Bes ides the shot’s underlining of the ‘spatial and psychologicalinterrelationships,’ it is used ‘to suggest simultaneity, and to emphasize cause-effect relationships.’ Tilting, like the panning shot, is evocative in offering thesubjective effect of the point-of-view of the character while looking up or down.T hat interchangeable angle (low-high) may create the psychological effect ofeither helplessness or well-being. The tilting effect is intensely narrative for105

the shot’s capturing of a dramatic moment such as an ascending or descendingmovement. By placing the camera close to the subject and tilting it slowly fromthe base of that subject, the shot would stress the effect of exaggerated height in

Le w i s H erman, A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and Television Films. New York and1 0 6

Scarborough: New American Library 1952, pp. 112&113.

David Bordwell, Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley 1979, pp.1 0 7

122&123.

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, p. 110.108

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focus. A moving cinematographic technique like tilting, for instance, was hard106

to resist for Hollywood’s filmers from the 1930's. Busby Berkeley was a film-maker who was in love with fluid-camera cinematography, and his dancenumbers were best viewed with a mobile camera but not with stationary one.Busby Berkeley broke with the conventions of the camera when he visualized hisflowery and unconventional scenes. He would shoot his dancing characters froman absolute perpendicular angle, and tilt the camera down to the other extremeend of the setting’s floor, scanning every possible aesthetic sign in the scene. Heperformed this landmark shot in “The Shadow Waltz” in Gold Diggers of 1933(1933). Tilting, like panning or the dolly shot, has relative pace from one framingt o the next, and a part of what is framed in one shot will be occluded in thefollowing framing. It sustains the narrative action and its continuity withoutrely ing on the cutting. All these qualified the shot to be a reliable narrativevehicle in conventional Hollywood’s film practice.

4.3.5 Crane Shot

When the camera undertakes the course of a crane shot, it is independent fromt he ground, swimming freely in the air in any desired position and direction.Today there are other versions of crane shots such as those of the airplane andhelicop t er, permitting the camera to fly in the air like a bird. With its107

mechanical arm, a camera crane is eligible to create a combination of movements(out, in, up, down, or diagonal), or any of these movements in isolation. Thesemechanical possibilities allowed film-makers to utilize the camera crane as aform of metaphor of penetration in the spatial representation. Craning the108

camera differs from all other moving-camera operations, but it is uniquelynarrative. With the help of a crane, the camera accesses places or angles thatotherwise would not be reachable with pan, dolly, zoom or tilting mechanisms.A crane shot is more likely to be used in transmitting captivating stylization suchas in mob scenes or musical spectacles. Film-makers preferred shooting theirmusical numbers with a crane to capture the ultimate novelty of the dynamic

John Arnold, Cinematography-Professional, in: Willard D. Morgan (Ed.), The Complete Photographer. Vol. 2, New1 0 9

York: National Educational Alliance 1942, p. 766.

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choreography and aesthetic of the large scale settings. That form ofrepresentation was manifested in David Abel’s filming “The Continental” in TheGay Div orcee (1934), in which the camera captured the space with itsconstituents of the Functional aesthetic as a scenographic detail in its own right.“The Continental’s” spatial representation obeyed the beholder as the master oft he sp ace by allowing access to unique vantage points on the set and itscomposition, which would not have been possible with other forms of moving-camera representation. The same narrative equilibrium between the spatial andthe characters within, was projected in a crane shot by Karl Freund in Conquest(1937).

In the early sound pictures, film-makers used the crane shot to provide a fluid-camera cinematography and therefore, they liberated the action from its cannedset, when the camera used to be caged in a soundproof booth. Filming the sceneof the New Yorker Penn Station with its mob composition was persuasivelydemonstrated in George Folsey’s representation in Applause (1929). Employingthe same measure of balance between fluid-camera, the crowd’s composition andits surrounding, was narratively visualized in a crane shot of a jammed street byGeorge Barnes, Stuart Thompson and George Nogle in the early sound pictureStreet Scene (1931). No other moving-camera technique can give the same imageoutcome of balancing between the dynamic composition and its surrounding asa crane shot does. A crane shot may however foreshorten a subject, or relativelydiminish the mobility of a crowd’s dynamism in its static surroundings, as thecamera is taking the course of steep angles when recording the composition.

T aking a scene with a crane is far more functional than using the traditionalcamera tripod to hold the apparatus. In the cinematographic field, a crane isrecommended for its advantages over the delays of tripod’s set-ups, because witha tripod, altering the camera position between shots, to the right, left, up or downis a time-consuming process. A crane can be moved to any desired angle in theset with more accuracy and smoothness. As stated earlier (Chapter 3), a special109

crane for the “Paradise Night Club” in Broadway (1929) was constructed toaccommodate the vast dimensions of the Club’s setting. With a fifty foot longarm, t he crane was able read all the Art Deco constituents of the set, whilerot at ing from one angle to the next at ease. The vertiginous crane mobility,

Hal Mohr quoted in Richard Koszarski, Moving Pictures: Hal Mohr’s Cinematography, in: Film Comment (September110

1974), p. 50.

Daniel Arijon, Grammar of the Film Language. New York: Hastings House 1976, p. 469.111

Ibid., pp. 470&471. 112

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 30&31.113

220

commented Broadway’s cinematographer Hal Mohr, is well qualified to guideour attention to the narrative action. 110

The crane shot is not usually employed to introduce fluid-camera, but to concurstationary shots with unyielding or unfeasible and time-consuming angles,assuming that these shots had been taken with other camera techniques. Craneshots have the ability to frame a dynamic composition moving up or down fromone level to the next. When the crane penetrates a setting, it pinpoints the centerof interest, traveling from one focus of attention to the next, or interprets themood of the action by traveling slowly while assuming a vertical motion. Whenthe crane lifts up in the air while recording an object in the front, it stresses theheight of that object, and the same effect will be produced if the camera takes theot her way around. The crane shot is a commonly useful cinematographic111

technique because of the device’s ability to illustrate ‘visually complicated sets,’and this is followed from the air by taking the course either from close-up to anestablishing shot or conversely. Introducing a crane shot into the representationaltreatment must be a highly justified technique, i.e., using it only when called forby the action . By not following this formula, abuse of the crane shot is easy andmay harm the picture.112

4.4 Camera Lens: Focus and Exposure

An image assigned in the focal distance of a long lens generally would appearcrisp and clear, and any plane in the front or behind this focal range would be outof focus. Some film-makers use this frosty effect (in front or behind the focalrange or both) to illustrate a distinctive cinematographic effect. Long distancelenses vary in their sensitivity to distances according to the lenses’ range. Theselenses distort distances, and do not have any respect for the novelty of theimage’s perspective or composition quality. Extreme long lenses reduce thedynamic of the composition extemely. On the contrary, short lenses (wide-113

Ibid., pp. 31&32; Choosing and Using Lenses, in: A. C., Vol. 40, No. 5 (May 1959), pp. 296-7&316; “focal length”114

i s t h e term that ‘refers to the distance from the surface of the film to the optical center of the lens.’ See Don Livingston,Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillan 1953, p. 60; V. Nilsen, The Cinemaas a Graphic Art, p. 55.

Charles L. Anderson, Filming with Perspective Control, in: A. C., Vol. 31, No. 10 (September 1950), pp. 331&324.115

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 55.116

Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillan 1953, p. 60.1 17

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angle) transmit a clear image in all its retrogressive planes, and this qualitativereason allows them to deliver deep-focus takes appropriately. Their focal lengthis short and they have a wider angular coverage. As these lenses acquire a widerangle, their lines and forms’ distortion became more clear on the edges of theimage, as they are aiming to bend. They exaggerate distances between the mise-en-scenes in the space. In a close-up shot, the wide-angle lens aims to deform theportraiture properties, such as large noses, ears and slanting slits of the eyes,whereas t he back of the head declines dramatically. The same is true forcaricaturing the characters’ activity from and toward the lens- it may lend to thecharacters the illusion of brutality or power. All these seem to be more magnifiedin a shot taken with a fish-eye lens.114

Shooting with a wide-angle lens would pronounce the perspectival values in thesp at ial organization. Objects situated in the foreground would undergo someaugmentation in their size and those in the background would look accordinglysmaller. The lense lends roundness to the spatial constituents. By taking a setwith a normal lens, its outlook may resemble a confined setting, but shooting thesame set with a wide-angle lens would give the impression of spaciousness.Walls of the set will appear uncontained, and figures of the characters’composition will look separate from one another. Focal length magnifies or115

reduces the image’s attributes on the screen. By manipulating the focal length,the distance between the camera and the subject can be altered without movingthe camera closer or farther away from the subject in focus. Whether the focal-116

length of the lens is short or long, it rules the perspective of the composition andalters the actual spatial dimensions (objects appear apart when taken with a shortfocal-length lens, and closer to each other when filmed with a long focal-lengthlens). Paramount’s chief Scenographer, Hans Dreier, confirmed this point that117

Hans Dreier, Motion picture Sets, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 17, No. 5 (November 1931), p. 790.118

Choosing and Using Lenses, in: A. C., Vol. 40, No. 5 (May 1959), pp. 314&315.119

The following lenses are generally accepted to conclude these focuses: 1-inch lens can be used in static long shots1 2 0

only; the 24mm or 1 ½- inch lens is usually used for long shots; the 35mm or 2 inch lens is appropriate for medium-shot;a n d the 75mm or 3 inch lens for a close-ups; see Edward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York:The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed., Designing for Films, 1949), pp. 37, 39&57; 18mm, 25mm, 28mm, 30mm, 35mm,nd

a n d 4 0 mm l e n ses are used in 35mm cameras, while lenses of 9.5mm, 10mm, 12.5mm, 13mm, 15mm, 17mm and 20mmlenses are assigned for 16mm cameras; Choosing and Using Lenses, in: A. C., Vol. 40, No. 5 (May 1959), p. 296.

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the camera lens defines the horizontal and vertical dimensions of the setting.118

A wide-angle lens is the only method authorizing the beholder to participate inthe scenic action so as to be “surrounded” by the setting and the action within.A wide-angle lens is a well-designated cinematographic means for capturing anexaggerated and forceful perspective. Under a poor illumination level in theinterior or exterior setting, the wide-angle lens will be of definitecinematographic value, ‘when a large aperture is necessary and maximum depthof field desirable.’119

If t he script defines the camera set-ups (close-up, medium or long-shot andangles) in telling the film story, rarely does it specify the camera lens which willbe employed in these set-ups. It is well advisable that the film Scenographerunderstands which lens will do what ‘to the figures in relation to the set and tothe perspective of the set’, in order that when planning the main scenes, the filmScenographer will be aware of what that particular lens will do to the set (seeIllustrations 97-101). Lenses such as 25mm, 35mm, 40mm, 50mm, and 75mm120

are the most commonly used in motion picture production. The 50mm lens is thecloses t in terms of vision to the human eye, with less “angle of visualperception.” Any lens below that size is considered a wide-angle lens. How muchlight a lens will transmit is a measure of lens categorization, and this in turn, isbased ‘upon the diameter of the lens in relation to its focal length.’ The irisdiaphragm, in the lens barrel regulates -when it opens and closes- the amount oflight reaching the film. Technically the iris diaphragm’s aperture and shuttingmechanism are graduated in f or T numbers, i.e., stops. This means that ‘thelower the f number, the greater the lens opening, the more light it will transmit,and the less light will be needed on the subject for a proper exposure.’ Based onthe lenses’ classification by their focal length and lowest f number, a completedesignation of a lense then will be as: 35mm f:2.3 lens or 40mm f:2.5 lens and

Don Livingston, Film and the Director: A Handbook & Guide to Film Making. New York: Macmillan 1953, p. 62;1 21

Le e Garmes, Photography, in: Stephen Watts (Ed.), Behind the Screen: How Films are Made. London: Arthur Baker1938, p. 112.

Jack Taylor, Dynamic Realism, in: I. P., Vol. 20, No. 9 (September 1948), p. 6.122

Choosing and Using Lenses, in: A. C., Vol. 40, No. 5 (May 1959), p. 296.123

Gregg Toland, Realism for “Citizen Kane”, in: A. C., Vol. 22, No. 2 (February 1941), p. 80.124

Charles Higham, Hollywood Cameramen: Sources of Light. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press 1970,125

pp. 83&85.

223

so on. 121

Obtaining a wire-sharp deep focus and highly realistic cinematography is eligiblewith 30 millimeter lens. The level of realism provided by the lens’ output is closeto the visual perception of the naked eye. A one-inch lens is used in the 16122

millimeter camera and the two-inch lens in the 35-millimeter camera. Both areregarded as two standard lenses in cinematographic production. Supposing the123

24mm, 28mm and the 35mm wide-angle lenses be stopped down to either f:11or f:16, then they can be used as ‘universal-focus lenses’ in almost everycinematographic event. Every lens’ depth of field ‘falls off more sharply in frontof the point of attention than behind it,’ said Gregg Toland, adding that ‘thiseffect varies not only according to the focal length of the lens used, but accordingto the degree to which it is stopped down and the point upon which it isfocused.’ James Wong Howe shot about eighty percent of Transatlantic124

[1931], with a twenty-five-millimeter wide-angle lens, which preserved thepersuasive illusion of a depth cue in the space, ranging from five to thirty feetaway from the lens. In this, every plane of the set was receding retrogressively125

in respect to the canons of perspective. Light, shadows, balconies and every formand line stressed a high degree of spatial realism in the extent of the space. InStagecoach (1939), some degree of depth cue realism was sustained by the useof a 25mm lens. This was enhanced by the introduction of ceilinged sets, whoselow walls necessitated them having to be roofed over - a breakthrough givenHollywood’s common habit of using unroofed sets. But at the same time, sincet he back-lighting effect had to be eliminated (except in using it as a naturallighting source), it created additional difficulties for securing the effect of

B e rt Glennon’s method of using backlighting as natural source for illuminating the interiors in Stagecoach (1939)1 2 6

w a s b o rro w ed from the Sargent paintings of the early west; see John Castle, Bert Glennon Introducing New Method ofInterior Photography, in: A. C., Vol. 20, No. 2 (February 1939), p. 83.

Joseph A. Dubray, Large Aperture Lenses in Cinematography, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 12, No. 33 (1928), p. 205.127

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 17, No. 4 (October 1931), p. 646.128

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to129

1960, pp. 343&350.

John Koenig, Scenery for Cinema. Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art 1942.130

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roundness of these sets.126

Large aperture objectives have a decisively qualitative means in cinematographicout put. Shooting with a large aperture does not call for much of a currentconsumption in illuminating interior scenes, and in the exterior, shooting on adusky or cloudy day with a large aperture would allow a satisfactorycinematographic quality. Large aperture permits the cinematographer to carry outartistic effects: to command the mood of illumination in the scene and create theoption for more angles from which to shoot. In a survey related to the Report127

of the Studio Lighting Committee released in the Spring of 1931 in Hollywood,it concluded the utilization of some lens apertures ranging from f/2.3 to f/1.8 inall actions. ‘After 1931, most cinematographers chose to keep the lens at a full128

aperture, cut down the light levels, and save money on the set.’ In the 1940's and1950's , wide-angle lenses were commonly in use on location for theircinematographic effect. 30mm and 35mm lenses became popular for theirrealistic representation. The 35mm lens was considered the standard inHollywood practice by 1950. By 1959, the 50mm lens was entirely done awaywith and became part of cinematographic history. 129

By setting a wide-angle objective at a small aperture to shoot under high-keylighting, the shot would produce a pan focus. This will clearly define two ormore objects situated in different planes, front-background, in one single shot.130

During the 1930's, the decade of deep-focus cinematography, Hollywoodcinematographers explored various strategies to record depth in space. Hal Mohrdevised an adjustable lens-mount allowing the recording of two figures, oneplaced five feet away from the lens and the other at a distance of twenty-five feet,in one clear focus. With this lens, Hal Mohr saved the narrative action from the

Hal Mohr, A Lens Mount for Universal Focus Effects, in: A. C., Vol. 17, No. 9 (September 1936), pp. 370&371.131

Gregg Toland, One of Top Lensers, Dies at 44, in: Daily Variety (Wednesday, September 29, 1948); upon Toland’s1 32

death, Samuel Golwyn’s Roseanna McCoy (1949) was filmed by Lee Garmes.

Darrin Scot, Panavision’s Progress, in: A. C., Vol. 41, No. 5 (May 1960), pp. 304&320.133

225

interruptive cutting of close shots, while jumping between the image’s plans backand forth to serve the continuity of the action. Hal Mohr persuasively succeededin introducing this method of smooth narrative in Bullets or Ballots (1936) andthe Green Pastures (1936), mainly not depending on the routine of cutting.131

Ot her cinematographers experimented with deep-focus and delivered notablynarrative depth of space throughout the 1930's. Morocco (1930), Transatlantic(1931), Viva Villa ! (1934), The Great Ziegfeld (1936), Dead End (1937),Kidnapped (1938), and Stagecoach (1939), belong to the decade’s mostcelebrated deep-focus representations. In Dead End, Gregg Toland explored thistechnique narratively and provided highly persuasive deep-focus cinematographyfrom Richard Day’s main setting. Later this same technique of narrativecontinuity was developed and reached its heights through Gregg Toland, whoimplemented the ultimate deep-focus technique in Citizen Kane (1941): keepingt he foreground and background of the image’s planes in a single sharp focuswithout relying on cutting to bridge from one shot to the next.

Shortly before his death in September of 1948, Gregg Toland was on the vergeof using his “ultimate focus” in Roseanna McCoy. Toland’s twenty-two years ofcinematographic experiments awarded him the confidence to introduce anextemely small lens with an aperture of f:64 for the first time. This aperture132

would have permitted Toland to cover a depth of field spanning a few inches inthe foreground to an infinite distance; later technical developments introducednew cinematographic qualities. Still, recording close-ups with the 27½mm wide-angle lenses of Cinerama and Cinemiracle processes invokes a noticeable andstrange facial distortion: long noses, small ears, foreheads and tilting-back chins.It reduced the dramatic quality of the landscape perspective by flattening it. Thisdeformation imposed a limitation on the cinematographer and consequently itdistracted the beholder from the narrative action. This was a valid reason foravoiding any close-ups with the three-camera process (Cinerama andCinemiracle). On the other side, Ultra-Panavision had realistic cinematographicquality with no deformity, and this related to the technique’s utilization of lenseswith various focal lengths. 133

John Arnold, Cinematography-Professional, in: Willard D. Morgan (Ed.), The Complete Photographer. Vol. 2, New1 3 4

York: National Educational Alliance 1942, p. 760.

Laurence Goldenstein and Jay Kaufman, Into Film. New York: E. P. Dutton 1976, p. 288.135

Charles G. Clarke, How Desirable is Extreme Focal Depth? in: A. C., Vol. 23, No. 1 (January 1942), p. 14.136

A Letter from William Wyler, in: Sequence, No. 8 (Summer 1949), p. 68. 137

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Securing a proper focus is highly important for the filming of every filmic scene.T his would require a precise measurement (with the tape measure) of thedistance between the subject and the camera, and then setting the latter’s ‘focusaccording to the calibrations on the lens. If there is any disagreement betweenvisual focus as seen on the camera’s groundglass and the measured distance, thetape measure is considered as correct.’ Suppose the camera or the subject or bothare mobile, then the alternation of the focus should be matching every significantmove of the action. During the youthful days of the motion picture, when films134

were shot in sunlight and film emulsion used to be too slow, not everycinematographer used an exposure meter. The common practice was theirfamiliarity and sensing of the proper exposure by the naked eye. ‘As a result, thecamera department of one major studio posted a sign saying, “when in doubt, usef5.6.”’ 135

During the course of the 1920's, Hollywood cinematographers adapted adis t inctive cinematographic style with a maximum diffusion. When shootingclose-ups of the female stars, they employed gauzes, discs, and soft lenses at amaximum aperture that resembled an obvious cosmetic visualization. This modelof representational treatment introduced a kind of “fuzzyography” onto thescreen. Yet Hollywood cinematographers well understood that a diffused imagewas not pertinent for each film genre. Horror and gangster pictures, however,tailored the harsher and sharper screen image. Other documentary-type picturesmaint ained a high realistic outlook in their screen image stylization, when136

Hollywood predominantly favored “soft” and diffused cinematographicstylization. This type of filming needed only sufficient illumination, and this int urn required shooting with a larger lens opening. Hollywood’s star-systemdeliberately embraced this soft transformance stylization, because it kept thecharacters as attractive as possible on the screen. Considering the importance137

of the economical aspect in film production will focus Hollywood’s observer ont he studios’ appreciation for shooting with large lens aperture, since it

George H. Scheibe, Filter for Special Effects, in: A. C., Vol. 14, No. 12 (April 1934), pp. 486, 497&498.138

George H. Scheibe, Soft Focus, in: I. P., Vol. 11, No. 3 (April 1939), P. 6.139

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significantly reduced the consumption of current on the sound stage, as we willsee in the foregoing analysis. Hollywood film-makers attempted experimentingwith laboratory devices as much as possible to enhance their image’s qualitativevisualization upon the screen. Using gauzes, silk for screening the lens, softlenses and filters was a common practice during the next half of the 1920's andearly 1930's diffused period. In the first half of the Golden Age this artificialcinematographic approach was visible on the screen to speak from a diffusedcinematographic period. Josef Von Sternberg used this technique withcompassion, by diffusing the image of his characters to make them look far moreadorable than they really were. In applying a diffused effect, Von Sternbergimposed the effect of a dream on his pictures. This image filtration and methodof ironing out the facial wrinkles was applied in Von Sternberg’s Morocco(1930), Shanghai Express (1932), and The Scarlet Empress (1934) among others. By 1934, a “Diffusion Filter” (screen) was the most commonly-used filter inmotion picture production throughout the world. By then, whether in the interioror exterior cinematography, shooting with some kind of diffusing filter was theaccepted norm in film-making. Image diffusion reached an artistic level whichwas hard to discern with the average eye. Some film critics preferred perceivingthe effect of this diffused image because it invoked fascination, naturalness and“quality.” Diffusion filters preserved all of the image’s essential attributes - facialwrinkles were ironed out and the make-up flaws corrected. The diffusion degreeon Diffusion screens ranged from a slight up to a heavy level, depending on theimage or close-up’s specification. Soft focus became a highly celebrated mode138

among Hollywood cinematographers. ‘Hardly a single scene is photographedt oday (April 1939) -either in the studio or on location- without the use of aDiffusing Screen.’ By then, most of the newly-developed lenses provided detailsin the image more than the naked eye was able to perceive in nature. Often theover-sensitivity of these lenses recorded the very details of the subject (skin andmake-up’s details) which turned out to be disturbing on the screen, instead ofbeing narrative. Diffusing Screens came to soften the image and refine thet ext ure produced by the lens, without affecting the image’s overall aestheticquality. Among the first of his contemporaries, Gregg Toland experimented139

with various camera lenses and lighting effects during the mid 1930's. Toland’sapproach intended to form a balance to the shortage of degree of response of the

John Baxter, Hollywood in the Thirties. New York: A. B. Barnes 1968, p. 133.140

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 33, No. 1 (July 1939), p. 98.141

Charles B. Lang, Jr., The Purpose and Practice of Diffusion, in: A. C., Vol. 14, No. 5 (September 1933), p. 171.142

Ibid., p. 193.143

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s low film emulsion. His findings paved the way for a new form ofcinematography during the 1940's. During the next half of the decade, Gregg140

T oland delivered classic masterpieces to the American screen. Despite thelimit ations imposed by the slow film emulsion, Gregg Toland was able tointroduce highly narrative deep-space and compositioning in depth, and hismanifestation of this unique screen image was evidently illustrated in highlyregarded works such as: Les Miserables (1935) The Wedding Night (1935), DeadEnd (1937), The Goldwyn Follies (1938) and Kidnapped (1938).

Shooting a set showing the expenditure on it while preserving the dramatic moodof that set simultaneously is exemplary. Reaching this visual balance is feasiblewith the correct exposure of the film. Further dramatic treatment forming a141

p ersuasive cinematographic representation, includes a manifested equilibriumbetween the external visualization and the internal dramatic means of the screenstory. In that, proper diffusion is a narrative asset, assuming that it is associatedwith a skilled compositional and proper lighting arrangement. Hollywood’s142

introduction to the diffused effect alternated from one genre to another, while thenat ure of the story commanded its visual stylization. Ultra-realistic andmelodramatic pictures are narratively effective when they are exposed to a highlycontrasted and hard lighting effect. Broad comedy also had less use for diffusion:it was more suitable for high-key lighting, the set having to be steeped in lightso that no part of the action should escape the beholder’s attention. Dramaticcomedy and comedy-drama are more narrative under a consistency of slightdiffusion throughout, whereas overall dramas require an enhanced diffusion.Romantic genres or sentiments are at their best when visualized at the highestlevel of diffusion, compared with the rest. 143

4.5 Orthochromatic-Panchromatic Emulsion

A definite process in the laboratory governs the formation of the motion picture

J o h n Arnold, Shooting the Movies, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton1 4 4

1937, pp. 145&146.

William Stull, Cinematography Simplified, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood: The145

A me rican Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), pp. 461&462.

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image before it reaches the screen. Relating this ‘lab’ process with our theme isessential, because with it the filmic image came into being. Basically, silverchloride and silver bromide are photographic substances with a sensitive propertyto light. When these are reached by light, their cream color changes into a certaindegree of a dark toned metallic silver, and this new tone’s intensity is decidedaccording to the light level that reached their silver salt and changed it into adarker tone of metallic silver. By exposing the silver salt surface (through thelens) to an illuminated scene, the latter will be reproduced with its variousgradients in terms of silver tones according to the light and shade’s distributionon the image’s constituents (less dark portions of the silver salt become less lightand vice-versa). In passing light through this negative, the new picture will be apositive producing dark as dark and light as light. Improving this photographic144

process had challenged some men since the beginning of the eighteenth-century.

As stated above, all film stocks share the principle of having certain compoundswith sensitive silver coatings, of which the emulsion darkens relative to the lightvolume to which it is exposed. Yet finding a proper support for the light-sensitiveemulsion was a challenge. In 1802, Wedgewood applied white colored leathert o sus t ain his emulsion, and in 1839, Fox-Talbot employed white paper assupport. In the same year, 1839, Daguerre tried the process on sliver plate, andin 1848 Niepce de St.Victor used a glass plate. Finally Dr. Maddox exercised hisprocess on a gelatin base in 1871. But what was most important came in 1888wit h George Eastman’s introduction of celluloid as the film-base. It was thediscovery that led to the existence of the motion picture. Progressively, the145

intention was to develop more sensitive film stock recording colors as the humaney e does. Orthochromatic (True Color) emerged as a response, and its silvercoating was treated with different pigments to enhance its color reproduction.But t he result did not reproduce a natural color pallet, and insteadOrthochromatic produced green, blue, red and yellow in contrast to one another.In the meantime, an advanced film emulsion was introduced. Panchromatic (AllColors) was handled by a coloring process identified as ‘Isocyanines.’ The newprocess qualified the Panchromatic emulsion to respond to the entire color pallet.It was over-sensitive to the strong blue and violet rays while green, yellow and

Ibid., pp. 462&463.146

Emery Huse and Gordon A. Chambers, New Eastman Emulsions, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 11 (December 1938), p. 23;1 47

P a t r i c k L. O g le, Technological and Aesthetic Influences Upon the Development of Deep Focus Cinematography in theUnited States, in: Screen, Vol. 13, No. 1 (Spring 1972), p. 51.

Emery Huse and Gordon A. Chambers, New Eastman Emulsions, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 11 (December 1938), p. 23;1 4 8

a n d i b i d . , Ea s tman Super Sensitive Panchromatic Type Two Motion Picture Film, in: Hal Hall and William Stull (Ed.),C i n e m a tographic Annual. Vol. 2, Hollywood: The American Society of Cinematographers 1931 (Rep., New York: ArnoP re s s & The New York Times 1972), pp. 103-108; for further data about Eastman Kodak’s Super Sensitive PanchromaticTy p e Two and Du Pont’s Special Panchromatic; see Hal Hall, Improvements in Motion Picture Film, in: ibid., pp. 93-99;and about the improved emulsions’ properties for 35mm films made by Agfa Ansco Corporation; see P. Arnold, A MotionPicture Negative of Wider Usefulness, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 23, No. 3 (September 1934), pp. 160-166.

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red were weaker. Nonetheless, the new stock became the adapted norm in thefilm industry.146

Technically, 1928 was a revolutionary year in Hollywood’s history, the yearwhere the screen image contracted an even more impressive realism than everbefore. With the arrival of sound and the conversion from carbon arc lamps toincandescent tungsten, the improvement of the Type 1 Panchromatic filmnegative by Eastman Kodak Company, with softer-looking finer grain forcommon application, highlighted a decisive occurrence in photoplay’s technicalhistory. The Panchromatic negative was effectively in circulation from 1913, butbefore 1928 was used in a very limited way. The introduction of Mazda lightingunits well-complemented Panchromatic, because of ‘the film being sensitive tot he longer wavelengths of visible radiation in which Mazda illumination wasparticularly rich.’ In the same year the Panchromatic Type II version emerged,which was faster, with relatively softer emulsion. On February 5, 1931,147

Eas t man Kodak improved the Super-Sensitive Panchromatic Motion PictureNegat ive, featuring a turning point in Panchromatic history. Soon after itsemergence, Hollywood welcomed the new negative into production. Comparedwith previous pans, it was faster and finer-grained, which contributed toenhanced cinematographic quality. 148

By July 1933, the Kodak Company developed an enhanced emulsion qualitycalled the Eastman Background Negative. It had fine grain emulsion structureand a speed of one-and-a-half times that of the Super-Sensitive Negative. Shortlyafter its introduction, ‘this emulsion was generally adopted as the medium onwhich projection background plates were photographed.’ In March of 1935,Eastman Super X Panchromatic Negative emerged for the trade. Super X was

Eme ry Huse and Gordon A. Chambers, New Eastman Emulsions, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 11 (December 1938), pp.1 4 9

23&24.

Ibid., pp. 24-27.150

Oliver Marsh, Super-Sensitive Film in Production, in: A. C., Vol. 12, No. 1 (May 1931), p. 11.151

Clyde De Vinna, New Angles on Fast Film, in: A. C., Vol. 12, No. 2 (June 1931), p. 19.152

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higher in speed, more sensitive, and was finer-grained with advancedphotographic output compared to its predecessor. It was not until three yearsaft er it s introduction that it started being used in the film production. In149

October of 1938, Eastman Plus X Panchromatic Negative came onto the market.Again, it was twice as fast as Super X, and it had finer grain and advanced filmicqualit y. In the following week, Background X and Eastman Super XX wereint roduced. Background X performed with about seventy-five percent moresp eed compared to Super X’s, was twice as fast as the regular BackgroundNegative and had less contrast. These made Background X highly recommendedfor exterior cinematography. Super XX had the grain similarity of Super X, yetwas four times faster, which made the new film negative a uniquecinematographic product.150

With the introduction of Super-Sensitive Panchromatic film, Hollywood’scinematographer was commissioned truthfully to translate the colors of the setand gowns, as they were intended by the Scenographer and costumer to fit thescreen. Yet delivering this tonal rate and color differentiation involved theirpresence on the set. Reaching this color-separation is a conditioned balance thatis based on a skillful illumination to heighten the tonal values of the set. Every151

one of the production troupe profited in some way from the new improved Super-Sensitive Films. Equipped with these films, Metro’s cinematographer Clyde deVinna expressed his artistic gratitude in regard to the new filmic material.Artistically, the new emulsions offered new ways of dramatic expression andmade the job easier on the set. In the comedy-drama White Shadows of the SouthSeas (1929), the new film emulsion allowed Clyde de Vinna to use dramaticillumination and preserve the overall tone needed for the comedy at the samet ime. The new film emulsions provided softer and clearer cinematographic152

quality than ever before. Gaffers had to deal with less and smaller lighting units,saving time and reducing the effort. Having this allowed the characters to workin a cooler and less overheated space, a comfort that permitted smooth

Ibid., pp. 19&22. 153

Fred Westerberg, New Negative to Improve Quality, in: I. P., Vol. 3, No. 4 (May 1931), p. 29.154

“ S u per Sensitive” and “Special” Panchromatic Negative Films were named “Fast Films;” A. S. C. Recommends Fast1 5 5

Film, in: A. C., Vol. 12, No. 3 (July 1931), p. 19.

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production and enhanced concentration of the characters on their action. In153

White Shadows of the South Seas, Clyde de Vinna captured a captivatingvisualization in the paradise of Tahiti that sustained, but saved the picture’s thinstory and made it at least visually narrative. This exterior realism on the screenwas well-fostered with the newly developed Super-Sensitive Films and achievedsuperb landscape cinematography which granted Clyde de Vinna an AcademyAward.

In a meeting conducted by the Technicians Branch of the Academy of MotionPicture Arts and Sciences on March 31 of 1931, at RKO, Eastman and Du Pontcompanies’ new film features were reviewed. Representatives of both companiesshared the same view regarding the Super-Sensitive emulsion being introducedin the practice: the new film’s sensitivity improved more than 100 percent, withsofter grain, and greater response to the whole color pallet. Also, the new filmstock was noticeably cost-effective compared to the current consumption on theset. Moreover, the American Society of Cinematographers and the Society’s154

Research Committee praised the newly introduced films. Commercially the newFast-films were extremely encouraging. The use of smaller lighting units oflower wattage for illuminating the set meant, for the major studios, an annualsaving of almost 40 percent, i.e., about 25,000 dollars. Smaller bulbs reduced theset’s temperature by more than 20 percent permitting the characters to workcomfortably and with less fatigue. They did not have to worry about their make-up melting under the heat any longer. Fast-Films permitted a smaller lensopening with advanced definition and artistic softness in the screen image. In thelaborat ory , the new Fast-Films were processed in regular time and with nodifficulties. Finally, their color rendition in both the interior and exteriorprovided satisfactory cinematographic quality. These were the reasons thatmotivated the ASC’s Board of Governors and its Research Committee to highlyrecommend the new Fast-Films for use in Hollywood production.155

At the turn of the twentieth-century, make-up application solicited its techniquefrom that practiced by the stage. By then, the face’s tonal values were pink,

Max Factor, Standardization of Motion Picture Make-up, in: J. S. M. P. T. E., Vol. 28, No. 1 (January 1937), pp.1 5 6

53&54.

C o l o rs are usually classified in two categories: “warm” (advanced colors) such as red, orange, yellow, and “cool”1 5 7

(retiring colors) such as green, blue, and violet; see Natalie M. Kalmus, Colour, in: Stephen Watts (Ed.), Behind theScreen: How Films are Made. London: Arthur Barker 1938, p. 120.

Hans Dreier, Designing the Set, in: in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937,158

p. 86.

P re s ton Ames, Art Director, in: Mike Steen (Ed.), Hollywood Speaks: An Oral History. New York: G. P. Putnam’s1 5 9

Sons 1974, p. 235.

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because the Orthochromatic emulsion was insensitive to the yellow-red colors.This tonal asset of a pink face called for high artificiality in the portraiture on thescreen; based on the irregular distribution of the tonal values on the humanportraiture, it would not have a good cinematographic effect without a make-upapplication. It is applied, therefore, to maintain a naturalistic outlook when theimage reaches the screen. Sustaining this realistic appearance of the portraitureneeds some degree of blue tone to balance the red, and make the facial imagelook natural. By so doing, this make-up composition will prevent the light frombeing digested by the skin. By introducing the admirable use of color into the156

picture, film-makers have the instrument of controlling the psychological stateand thoughts of the beholder. Color engenders simplicity in the pictorialnarration, communicates the mood of the narrative action and makes it easy forthe beholder to perceive. The film Scenographer’s assignation of the colors of157

t he set is a matter of close concern to the cinematographer as well. In amonochrome picture, the color’s designation must institute elaborate harmonyin its shades of gray for the camera, and still preserve an aesthetical efficiencyon t he screen. The emergence of color films introduced ‘two schools of158

t hought’ into film scenographic stylization. One discipline called foroverwhelming the Scenographic Space with colors wherever possible, while theother stood for caution when suggesting color, in order that it would not distractfrom the action or intrude into it. After a period of dispute over both axioms, theschool of simplicity emerged victorious, due to its proven narrative efficiency.159

‘The energy emission of the incandescent lamp increases in passing from theblue to the red end of the visible spectrum.’ Therefore, using Mazda lamps withfull capacity needed an increase in the sensitivity of Panchromatic emulsion tored and yellow. Out of this came considerable savings in current, and characters

V. B. Sease, Du Pont’s New Panchromatic Film, in: A. C., Vol. 13, No. 5 (September 1932), p. 17.160

Ibid., pp. 17&25.161

“Greyback” film: the film’s outlook gave it this name, ‘for the super-sensitive emulsion is coated upon a celluloid1 6 2

base that contains a small amount of lavender-gray dye. This dye has the property of absorbing the light that has traversedthe emulsion at those portions where the image of an extremely bright object is focused upon it. The light would ordinarilyreflect from the surface of the celluloid support, back into the emulsion and further diffuse, causing a halo or flare of lighti n the area surrounding the bright spots.’ See Charles G. Clarke, Fast Improvements of Fast Film, in: A. C., Vol. 12, No.3 (July 1931), p. 40; about the relationship between the facial make-up, setting tones and the response of the new Plus-Xe mu l s i o n i n t h i s equation see Joseph Valentine, Make-Up and Set Painting Aid New Film, in: A. C., Vol. 20, No. 2(February 1939), pp. 54-56&85.

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started working in a rejuvenated fashion in the studio. Yet some criticism wasraised, at the time of writing this article, suggesting that the red sensitiveemulsions failed truthfully to record the color of the characters’ faces, lips andskin. Some of the latest Pans overstated these tones and transmitted them asdarkened red. Hollywood’s well-established make-up departments overcame160

the Pan’s high sensitivity to the red ‘by altering the make-up.’ To remedy thesame problem, the Du Pont Company developed a new Panchromatic emulsionwith a high sensitivity to green, which delivered an enhanced image quality inthe daylight. In the laboratory the new emulsion’s developing process wassimilar to that of its predecessors, except that it had to be processed in totaldarkness because of its sensitivity to the green safelights. Fast-Film had its161

short comings when carrying out an extreme shimmering and a too-shadowyeffect. A luminous light source was losing its effect, and tended to be faded byhalation to the extent of misplacing its meaning. Pure white costumes turned toglaring ones when blended with light. They had to be toned down, and the samehad t o be applied to the light sources, and reflective objects to avoid thesparkling and attention-scattering effect. The problem was worse with Super-Sens itive emulsion. Eastman and Du Pont came up with the Super-SensitiveAnti-Halation Film (Greyback). This allowed cinematographers to remedy thehalation problem, and they no longer had a limitation in recording whitecostumes, or filming a silhouette against the sun or even shooting toward a lightsource. Capturing the reflected lighting beams from a water surface andpreserving a natural image was permissive. ‘Bright lustre paints of settings willnow be possible.’162

Paramount’s veteran Scenographer Robert Boyle considered dealing with a blackand white film as more challenging to the Scenographer and cinematographerthan working with color. In a monochrome picture, the Scenographer addressesthe planes’ separation in terms of tones of gray. The same effect is realized by

‘Josef Von Sternberg worked in black and white with a painter on the set all the time. If a very expensive piece of1 6 3

fu rn i t u re wasn’t dark enough, he sprayed it black.’ See Vincent LoBruttto, By Design: Interviews with Film ProductionDesigners. Westport, Connecticut: Praeger 1992, p. 7.

N a t a l i e M. K a lmus, Color Consciousness, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 25, No. 2 (August 1935), p. 140; since the1 6 4

introduction of two-color process Natalie M. Kalmus (the wife of Dr. Herbert T. Kalmus) was in charge of overseeingwhich color should be used in the process; with the introduction of the three-color process she insisted on ‘muted pastels,a d i c t u m t h a t d rove’ Scenographers and costumers ‘to distraction.’ The name of Natalie M. Kalmus accompanied everyTe c h n i c o l o r f i l m until the late 1940's, but what exactly her real assignment on the set was is today controversial; seeRonald Haver, David O. Selznick’s Hollywood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1980, p. 179.

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the cinematographer in terms of illumination, while attaining a depth cue in theset. In a color picture, distinguishing between planes of a filmic scene is achievedby appointing recommended color values on different surfaces. This techniquedemands a previous determination of the color values, to define whether thejuxtaposition rules of certain color tones are broken according to the foreground-background principle or not. Capturing the tonal values of gray scale in the163

Scenographic Space is not established, unless the cinematographer possesses theartistic sense to capture this very sensitive aesthetic sign on the screen. Thisconcept of tonal values’ separation and of involving the beholder’s awareness oft he space’s depth cue novelty, challenged Hollywood artists throughout theGolden Age. After the year nineteen-twenty-eight, in which film manufacturersintroduced their improved Panchromatic emulsions to the film industry,Hollywood studios continued, each working in its own terms, toward refiningt heir screen outlook and establishing own cinematographic labels. ThereuponHollywood’s representational style during the 1930's continued delivering anenhanced cryptogram in the representation of scenographic stylization.

4.6 Technicolor Process and Aesthetic Cinematography

If the advent of the sound era in the motion picture shifted the film toward furtherbelievability, then the addition of color to the screen image authorized the filmto move into its final stage in its progress toward realism. The adaption of theauditory and chromatic senses into this medium truthfully simulated the realityof the real world. Just as tonal treatment and compositional principles contributedt o the formulation of pictorial art and made it a true art form, so these samecanons allowed the filmic image, through the use of color, to merit the title ofadmissible art. The juxtaposition of colors in the Scenographic Space and itsmise-en-scenes should be concluded after a careful study before they reach thescreen. With the introduction of color, the impression of a depth cue in the164

Lansing C. Holden, Designing for Color, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton165

1937, p. 244.

‘Not blue, not yellow, red. In order to lead to it,’ suggested Rouben Mamoulian , ‘start with black and white, go dark166

b l ue, dark green, then yellow, then light green, then orange, then red.’ Quoted in Eric Sherman (Ed.), Directing the Film:Film Directors on their Art. Boston: Little, Brown 1976, p. 131.

See Joseph V. Mascelli, What Happened to Photographic Style? in: I. P., Vol. 30, No. 1 (January 1958), p. 18.167

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filmic spatial was enhanced, and objects gained a sense of roundness. ‘This isdue to the fact that a cool color can recede, whereas a warm brilliant color canadvance.’ Still, a spatial depth will be stressed by assigning a certain value ofcolor separation between objects, as these extend into the background of thescene. Assuming that color is applied correctly to the scene, it will receive165

notable dramatic and emotional narrative value. If not, it will make the sceneineffective. Whether the beholder is attentive or inattentive to the color presencein the scene, color has its assured psychological effect on its perceiver. If somecolors call for exhilaration, others stress comfort, while red is the most dramaticof all, and must be reserved for the ultimate zenith of the narrative action.166

Furthermore, a black and white image entitles the beholder’s sense of illusion toperceive the spatial with its lines and forms in terms of shades of gray, which donot need to be typically realistic. Some critics have observed that the black andwhit e image had further dramatic means for arresting the artistic values of ascene than color does. This is based on the manipulation of the monochrome’stonal values symbolically, to bring the dramatic rhythm of the scene to the fore.The same interpretational treatment of the gray tones is not applicable to color,because color must be delivered as a realistic translation of the virtual to thescreen. Any diffusion of the color image is considered, by the beholder, to be adistractive emission and poor technique.167

In spite of the two or three colors used in the photographic process, every systemof color is classified, meeting either additive or subtractive (or both) colorprocesses. In the additive process, the emulsion does not contain a real color- itscolor tones are latent, and can only be projected in putting an advisable filterbetween the film and the screen. Additive is simple to process in the lab, yet itneeds a special camera and projector. In the subtractive color process, the imageacquires all the colors it needs in itself, therefore it does not need a special filteror projection. Nevertheless, it needs a certain camera and process in the lab, butcommercially, the subtractive process has no limitations concerning demanding

Hal Hall and William Stull, Motion Pictures in Natural Colors, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1,1 6 8

H o l l ywood: The American Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times1972), pp. 274&275.

Edward Carrick, Designing for Moving Pictures. London & New York: The Studio Publications 1941 (2 Ed.,1 6 9 nd

Designing for Films, 1949), pp. 69&70.

Th o ma s W. Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion1 7 0

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 229.

Ibid., p. 230.171

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a special projector for viewing the film. In the Technicolor process, the film168

Scenographer prepares an opaquely colored set to be translated to the beholder‘by passing light on to a screen through colored gelatine, and all the colors thatyou can imagine will eventually be reproduced by passing light through gelatines t ained with only three colors, yellow, magenta, and a blue-green (cyan).’ Inorder to perceive a film print, however, in yellow, red, and blue-green, thecamera records the scene in blue-violet, green, and red. 169

Comparable to sound, color is as old as film itself- C. Frances Jenkins exhibitedhand-tinted films with color in 1894. Twenty-five years after its commencement,the method of tinting and toning the film was the norm in applying color to themotion picture. Tinting the film was applied by hand directly to the film positiveor was mixed with the film emulsion. Kinemacolor was the first natural color170

and additive process introduced to the film market, was developed in 1906 by theBritish Georg Albert Smith and Edward R.Turner, and financed by the Americanimpresario Charles Urban. Open presentations were held in 1908. In thefollowing year, Urban showed the process to the Motion Picture PatentsCompany of America (MPPC), after which they chose to buy the Americanrights. They reconsidered their judgment, since monochrome film was sosuccessful in the marketplace. Charles Urban started confronting ever more171

difficult circumstances because the Motion Picture Patents Company was notint erested in Kinemacolor, which prevented Urban from truly entering theAmerican Market. In the spring of 1910, Kinemacolor of America bought the U.S. rights to the color picture process from Urban, the man who had advertisedKinemacolor to become known worldwide. One week after Kinemacolor startedpromoting in 1912, the company received 416 requests to supply color service.By November of the following year Kinemacolor of America Inc., started putting

In 1913, the weekly service for a color film projector started at 20 dollars, and the device’s retail price ranged from1 7 2

t w o to three hundred dollars installed. That same projector could be used for exhibiting black-white pictures; see GorhamKindem, The Demise of Kinemacolor: Technological, Legal, Economic, and Aesthetic Problems in the Early ColorCinema History, in: Cinema Journal, Vol. 20, No.2 (Spring 1981), pp. 3, 9-11.

Ibid., p. 11.173

Ibid., pp. 12&13.174

What? Color in the Movies Again? in: Fortune, Vol. 10, No. 4 (October 1934), pp. 92-97ff.; Lansing C. Holden,1 7 5

D e s i g n i n g for Color, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies, New York: W. W. Norton 1937, p. 247;“ Multicolor” or the two-color subtractive process was commonly in use in the American film industry upon the emergence

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projectors on sale instead of renting them out. The company did not achieve172

enough success to survive, however. Film historians agree that the real cause forKinemacolor’s downfall is unclear, but some scanty indications may suggest thereasons: after 1912, Kinemacolor interior filming became difficult with Cooper-Hewitt mercury vapor lighting, because the latter was highly intense in blue light.Technical complexities in the color projection were obstructive, as well as theexhibitors’ uncertainty as to whether there would be enough supply and demandof color pictures to cover their high costs or not. Furthermore, in early 1914,t here was a conflict of interest between the Natural Color KinematographCompany and Kinemacolor of America, that added to the obstacles in the pathof t he latter’s success. Finally, there is no evidence that Kinemacolor’sproductions, those distributed both in the U. S. and England, were commerciallyor aesthetically successful. Despite Kinemacolor’s survival until 1924, the173

company never recovered commercially from 1914 onwards. In 1918, WilliamFox patented a new process of Kinemacolor, yet historically and critically, thiswas of inconsiderable significance. From the mid- 1920's forward, theTechnicolor and Eastmancolor processes emerged succeeding Kinemacolor, andboth had learned from the mistakes that led to the company’s bankruptcy- theyop erated within a certain budget and did not compete with each other in themarketplace. They only supplied those who could afford the color film. Late inthe 1930's, the Technicolor process came to achieve an artistic and economicsuccess in motion picture production.174

Meanwhile, in 1914, Dr. Herbert Thomas Kalmus, Dr. Daniel Frost Comstock,and Mr. W. Burton Wescott invented the two-color additive Technicolor process.The name of their system emerged from their Boston-based Engineering firm.Shortly after, the two-color additive system was discontinued in order to start thet wo-color subtractive process. Between 1920 and 1922, the two-color175

o f s o u n d . In t hat ‘two dye images are produced in a single layer film by imbibition. ... Two negatives with emulsions u rfaces adjacent are run through a standard camera at one time, the front negative is orthochromatic with the surface layerd y e d o ra n ge-red to act as a filter for the image recorded on the rear panchromatic emulsion. Double coated yellow dyedfilm is used for printing the pair of images in register on opposite sides of the film. The images are colored by a combineddye toning and chemical toning method, and are varnished before projection to protect them from scratching.’ see Progressin the Motion Picture Industry, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 14, No. 2 (February 1930), pp. 222&246.

Howard C. Brown, Will Color Revolutionize Photography? in: A. C., Vol. 17, No. 7 (July 1936), p. 284; Thomas1 76

W . B o h n a n d Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion Pictures. PortWashington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 230.

Howard C. Brown, Will Color Revolutionize Photography? in: A. C., Vol. 17, No. 7 (July 1936), p. 284; the last two-177

c o l o r Te c h n i color process Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933) needed so much lighting effect for illuminating the setst h a t i t g enerated enough heat to melt the wax figures. Therefore, in most of the scenes figures had to be played by thecharacters..

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subt ractive process “Prizma”was developed in America; some pictures wereproduced in this new Prizmacolor system, like J. Stuart Blackton’s (costumedrama) British color production The Glorious Adventure (1922). By the mid-176

1920's, some spectacular productions partially introduced the two-colorT echnicolor process, such as The Ten Commandments (1923) and Ben-Hur(1926). Others took advantage of the process in full-scale like the two-stripTechnicolor The Black Pirate (1926), which was among the first feature-lengthpictures to be filmed using the process.

During its early stages, color negative expanses reached nearly seven times thecost of black and white. A release-print of one footage color film reached almosttwenty cents, and obtaining it was not easy. The color process necessitated agreat deal of lighting units, and this made color stock an unaffordable expensethat many producers in the industry could not withstand. Not until 1928 did colorfilm start becoming more accessible. Both technological advancement and smallbusiness demand contributed to the affordability of color photography. Color’scos t came close to matching that of monochrome film. By then, Technicolorintroduced the imbibition process of printing, lessening the cost of color film atthe release-print to around ten cents-a-foot, making it easier to produce. Soonfollowed the Depression, forcing many color contracts into being held back, andthe monopoly over the color industry by a centralized color-plant rendered eventhe strongest Hollywood mogul powerless. For these reasons, Hollywood had tostep back from producing many color pictures. Still, with the advent of talkies,177

T echnicolor became reputable in Hollywood. The same studio and man whopioneered the introduction of sound to the screen, repeated the act with color.Jack Warner was the first man in Hollywood who was contracted to produce a

What? Color in the Movies Again? in: Fortune, Vol. 10, No. 4 (October 1934), pp. 92&95.178

Ronald Haver, David O. Selznick’s Hollywood. New York: Alfred A. Knopf 1980, p. 178.179

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to180

1960, pp. 353&354.

J o h n B axter, Hollywood in the Thirties. New York: A. B. Barnes 1968, p. 48; TheTechnicolor camera is a three-1 8 1

n e g a t i v e process: in that ‘three negatives are exposed simultaneously through a single lense. This is accomplished by ab e a m s p l i t t e r made of two prisms of optical glass with silver-sputtered faces which produce a partially reflecting mirror.... part of the light reflects through an aperture at the left of the lens, and the remainder passes through the normal aperture.A s i n g l e S u p e r X panchromatic film is exposed through this aperture behind a green filter, transmitting a green light.Th ro u g h t h e l eft aperture is passed a standard bipack (two films with their emulsion surfaces in contact), the front filmb e i n g sensitive to blue, and carrying a red-orange dye which absorbs the blue rays so that only the red rays are affectedb y t h e re ar emulsion.’ Lansing C. Holden, Designing for Color, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. NewYork: W. W. Norton 1937, p. 248.

Pan and Sound Put Inkies on Top, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 3 (April 1938), p. 43.182

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series of color feature films. Alongside the sound boom, color began to178

enhance the narrative quality of the film in the two years after the emergence ofsound. Yet Technicolor was not prepared to handle the contracts it obtained, andunder this time pressure its quality started suffering with the delivery of ‘a seriesof garishly tinted pictures’ that harmed its status . By 1931, following theDepression, color production came almost to a standstill. To overcome this crisist he t hird strip was added to the previous two (red and green) to record thecomponent of blue. Joseph A. Ball, a member of the Academy, the SMPE, and179

one of Daniel Frost Comstock’s students, together with Comstock and LeonardTroland, were the brains behind the invention of the three-strip process in 1932.Dr. Herbert Kalmus fostered the project, and Ball was in charge of improvingTechnicolor throughout the nineteen-thirties. In the three-color Technicolor180

process, three negatives were driven through the camera. After these negativeswere developed, each was dyed in yellow, magenta and cyan, and the three-colors were transferred onto one strip of film that recorded their images on oneanother ‘and contains a faint key image in gray silver to aid in registration anddefinition.’ This was called imbibition (or dye transfer process of printing).181

Hollywood’s metamorphosis from carbon arc lamps and Cooper-Hewitt mercury-vapor tubes to incandescent tungsten in 1928, did not happen as a result of theemergence of sound. The main reason was to be found in the popularization ofPanchromatic emulsion. But the arrival of the talkies contributed only to theacceleration of this process, and was not the real cause in this transformation.182

Th o ma s W. Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion1 8 3

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, p. 231.

241

Soon after introducing sound into the photoplay, film-makers started questioningthe endurance of the sounded screen image on its own. This skeptical approachmotivated some of the Hollywood studios, primarily Warner Brothers in 1929-1930, to produce color pictures, assuming they would balance out theshort comings of sound. Color film was not cheap to produce, but luring thep ublic to a colored and talking image was worth a try. Technicolor wascontracted to produce seventeen films in 1929, and in the following year thecompany was commissioned to produce thirty-six. Technicolor worked aroundt he clock to meet Hollywood’s demand. Shortly after sound film proved itssuccess, the color- rush cooled down, and by 1932 color was no longer of greatinterest in production.183

During the early period of the switchover to dialogue, Hollywood startedint roducing the Technicolor system onto the screen in its extravaganzas andmusicals. Warners’ On With the Show (1929) and Gold Diggers of Broadway(1929) were produced in the two-color system, which resulted in the earlycontracts with Technicolor. These pictures brought a too-artificial and blurrycolor image to the screen. Today they are only of historical interest in theprogress of Technicolor. By the mid 1930's, color production was delivered bythe three-color strip. Walt Disney tried out the newly-emerged Technicolor in hiscartoons, and the result was encouraging to Hollywood. La Cucaracha (1934)was the pioneer picture of the process, followed by Becky Sharp (1935). SelznickInternational was in love with the Technicolor system. Selznick produced TheGarden of Allah (1936), Nothing Sacred (1937) and Gone With the Wind (1939)among others, using the Technicolor process. Whether they were a historicaloccurrence picture, comedy, or musical, all movies used color to elevate theirnarrative, and this consequently stimulated box-office receipts and a raveningpublic. Balancing the prestige of color was addressed with astonishingly splendidsets, e.g., Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Gone With the Wind, or The Wizardof Oz (1939). The centralization of Technicolor manipulated the color productionof the American motion picture industry for more than three decades. WhenEas tmancolor emerged in the early 1950's, Technicolor had to gradually stepdown from governing the color market, and started sharing it with others.

When three-strip Technicolor came onto the market, the process needed special

“Side Arcs” and “Scoops” were developed to answer this question. The twin-arc units illuminated with no flickering1 8 4

or noise. Their intensity equaled the daylight’s radiation level, and generated 250 percent more light than their predecessor“ t w i n a rc broadsides.” “H. I. Arc” was the following arc unit in this Series. It had a similarity to the incandescent“ S o l a rspot.” H. I. Arc operated smoothly and noiselessly. It was a rotary arc with an intensity of 120 amperes. “Ultra H.I . A rc ” w i t h 150 amperes followed by “MR Type 65”, the little sixty-five amperes spotlight. The advancement ofTe c h n icolor cut down the current consumption, and these new arcs were adapted in all of Hollywood’s Technicolorproduction ; Pan and Sound Put Inkies on Top, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 3 (April 1938), p. 47.

Robert Surtees, Color is Different, in: A. C., Vol. 29, No. 1 (January 1948), p. 31185

J. A. Ball, The Technicolor Process of 3-Color Cinematography, in: International Projectionist, Vol. 8, No. 6 (June1 86

1935), p. 14.

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light ing units in order to secure qualitative color cinematography. But to becommercially encouraging, this had to be recorded with the same camera withoutadjustment, i.e., when filming under artificial light in the interior and in daylightin the exterior, the artificial lighting level had to match the “white light” of theoutdoors. In this regard, a direct use of incandescent tungsten was not promising.It needed a corrective filter to absorb much of the light’s intensity, becauseM az da lamps were rich in yellow, red and infrared radiation. Therefore theTechnicolor process required a considerable amount of light, more ‘than couldbe sup plied by the incandescent units available.’ This necessitated thestandardization of arc lighting for filming with Technicolor. In color filming,184

brightening a black object with arc light and making it look lighter is impossible.To remedy this, Hollywood cinematographer Robert Surtees suggested the useof an “amber 56 filter” on arc light, or the utilization of ‘a raw unfilteredincandescent lamp on’ dark objects, which would convert a dark tone into alighter one.185

When applying color to the set, the film Scenographer should take some of thecinematographic concerns into close consideration. This includes enabling thecamera to secure the desired dramatic mood, with the use of the minimumsources of lighting units possible. ‘Under these conditions, it is always mucheasier to keep parts of a set in low key by keeping light away from them, than itis to paint them dark and then be forced to illuminate them strongly.’ In its186

early days, Technicolor’s constraints of using color on the set imposedlimitations on the color pallet employed by the Scenographer. According to thecontracts made with Technicolor, film-makers had to have color consultants, whodemanded that the color used on the set should comply with the laboratoryprocess. Sets had to be flooded with light, which reduced the setting’s dramatic

Robert Olson, Art Direction for Film and Video. Boston: Focal Press 1993, p. 8.187

Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Direction in the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina and London:1 8 8

McFarland 1990, p. 34.

Ibid., p. 91.189

Controlling the color quality in the motion picture may be exercised at three levels: by the artist who selects the color,190

t h e c i n e matographer who records it, and by the process in the laboratory; see Rouben Mamoulian, Colour and Light inFilms, in: Film Culture, Vol. 21, (Summer 1960), pp. 70-72.

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efficiency. On the other hand, flooding the set with high-key light from every187

possible direction exposed the set more clearly to the beholder. This required thefilm Scenographer to introduce a form of definition into the spatial-temporalparallelism. When the Technicolor process was improved in 1939, settings wereilluminat ed with less light, while their details had to be kept elaborate.188

Arranging sets for color pictures was a time- and labor consuming task. They hadto conform with the standards of the laboratory process. While working on TheWizard of Oz (1939), ‘Gibbons, . . . had Jack Martin Smith do a series of colorsketches (three feet wide by two feet high) of all the sets so that he could checktheir colors. When Smith finished, Gibbons told him to start all over again,’ asGibbons wanted a quality of ethereal and not full color. Measuring the189

dramatic quality of the color effect in the motion picture is based on the color’sstimulus level in telling the story, in addition to its profiling of the characters andit s communication of the dramatic mood of the filmic story. This calls fort reat ing color as a dramatic and psychological means. When this is properlyachieved, the desired artistic intention is completed. Film practitioners synthesizetheir scenes’ dramatic values by painting them with light, and in building thisequation, color assumes an impressive relevance. Supposing we recognize thefilm as a continual flow of dramatic images, ‘then many attributes of the art ofpainting become valid for the art of films.’ The dramatic relevancy of color190

proved its narrative success for the first time in the second half of the decade,when pictures such as The Wizard of Oz (1939) and Gone With the Wind (1939)manifested that highly perceptual accomplishment and secured their historicalsuccess.

4.7 Sonic Perspective: Acoustic Control

Recording sound means: ‘a reading, a deciphering, an attending to a sonic event.This is the meaning of the difference between the three-dimensional, physical

Alan Williams, Is Sound Recording Like a Language? in: Yale French Studies, No. 60 (1980), p. 61. 191

S ee Leon S. Becker, Technology in the Art of Producing Motion Pictures, in: S. M. P. E. (Ed.), The Technique of1 9 2

Motion Picture Production. New York: Interscience 1944, pp. 5&6.

W esley C. Miller, The Illusion of Reality in Sound Pictures, in: Lester Cowan (Ed.), Recording Sound for Motion1 9 3

Picture. New York and London: McGraw-Hill Book 1931, p. 215; Alan Williams, Is Sound Recording Like a Language?in: Yale French Studies, No. 60 (1980), p. 59.

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“sound” and its recording as a one-dimensional, analogically encoded event.’191

In reality when hearing a sound, the ear transmits it to the brain by means ofbinaural perception, where each ear sends its message to the brain independentof t he other. Defining the sound’s attributes (pitch, distance, or location) iscommanded by the binaural perception. Monaurally perceiving a sound does nothave the same recording quality as binaural perception. It transmits to the brainonly half of the data that could be obtained binaurally, and discriminating thedepth of space will be ill-defined, except by loudness. Recording a sound withone microphone and a single recording channel on the set, will render it beingperceived as monaural, and with it defining the characters’ motion or location onthe screen will be impossible. Therefore, giving the impression of spatial depthand spaciousness can be introduced by loudness and reverberation. To induce192

a realistic illusion of a sound image, an elaborate parallelism of sonic perspectiveis t he prerequisite. This is vital in covering a sound composition. When acharacter is speaking in the foreground of the set, the sound source wouldcomp ose a pitch frequency analogously nearby to the beholder whilst goingunnoticed, permitting the beholder to share the event with the set’s inhabitants.As t he distance of the sound source increases from the camera, the soundfrequency will decrease and the illusion of the spatial depth will be amplified inrelation to the beholder and vice-versa. This makes the pitch of a close-up193

produce greater frequency than that of a medium or long-shot, since the distancefrom the camera to the sound composition is assigned according to the shot.

Sets from the early sound period were well constructed, and their spacing of thestudding was reliably done, so ‘that the natural frequencies of the wall sectionsoccurred in the same frequency region as the fundamental tones of the averagemale voice.’ Out of this emerged an emphasized low-pitched frequency of thesound source, in comparison to the shielding of the greater frequencies, ‘whichare responsible for both the crispness and articulation.’ This problem escalatedin sections where sets were boldly dressed, because these sections absorbed the

J. P. Maxfield, Technique Recording Control for Sound Pictures, in: Lester Cowan (Ed.), Recording Sound for Motion194

Pi cture. New York and London: McGraw-Hill Book 1931, p. 262&263; J. P. Maxfield’s papers belong to the mostreliable studies related to the sound track and acoustic control during the transition period.

Ibid., p. 257.195

Ibid., p. 261.196

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higher frequencies more than they did the lower tones. This made a clearrecording of a high-pitched sound in those sets hopeless, if the sound source wasnot aimed toward the microphone. In the livelier sets, even when the microphonedid not capture the sound directly from its source, the latter would arrive to themicrophone after having bounced off the walls of the set. It took Hollywood194

cinematographers a great deal of practice to correctly represent the illusion ofdep t h in the sound set. The correct focal length of the lens, as well as acorrelating illumination of the space notably aided the capturing this illusion ofspatial depth. ‘Fortunately, for the acoustic engineer, the impression of depthdepends upon factors which are almost as effective with monaural as withbinaural listening: namely, the change in the ratio of the intensity of the directsound to the reverberation present.’195

Hearing binaurally permits a sense of direction and determination of the sourceof sound. Monaural listening does not provide a sense of orientation, wherecasual tones and reverberation would seem to accelerate. This motivates keepingthe sound frequencies in the set less than they are in reality. Correspondingly,when constructing a set of material of the same acoustic quality as that of reality,t he absence of the fourth wall and the ceiling will allow acceptable dampingquality, which is needed for recording the sound. This acoustic control would begranted either by building the set outdoors or on a dead sound stage. To makethis task practical, constructing the set should consist of imitative materials asclose as possible to reality, and bracing the set reliably so ‘that they do not tendto materially partake of the vibrations set up in the air by the sound.’ Finally,196

a set ting assembled for a monaural sound recording would be acceptables t ereop honically. Acoustically, this makes a good monaural set- one that isqualified for a stereophonic sound as well as for a qualitative acoustic. Copyingsound stereophonically is cost effective ‘because of the poor records frequentlyobtained in portions of otherwise acceptable sets which, if sufficiently inferior,

Lorin D. Grignon, Experiment in Stereophonic Sound, in: J. S. M. P. T. E., Vol. 61, No. 3 (September 1953), p. 375.197

F o x -C a se Corporation’s Technical Director, Earl I. Sponable, sketched out the characteristics of these sound proof1 9 8

s t a g e s . ‘The inner walls of our studios’ commented Sponable, ‘are made with 4-inch solid gypsum block, 1 inch of hairfe l t , 3 inches of air space, and another 4-inch solid gypsum block wall. These walls are started about 6 inches down int h e concrete foundation. The outer walls are made of brick and masonry and are about 24 inches in thickness. A doublec e i l i n g i s supported from the roof trusses. It is made of concrete plaster and separated by a 3-inch air space and 1-inchhair felt. The floors of the studios are covered with soft carpet. The inner walls and ceilings are covered with Celotex andfu rt h e r d a mped by hanging heavy Monk cloth drapes perpendicular to the walls and ceiling. These drapes are arrangedfo r ra i s i n g and lowering, so that the degree of resonance may be varied to meet different conditions of recording.’ EarlI. Sponable, Some Technical Aspects of the Movietone, in: T.S. M. P. E., Vol. 11, No. 31 (1927), pp. 458-461

William C. DeMille, Hollywood Saga. New York: E. P. Dutton 1939, p. 282. 199

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are dubbed or re-recording time is used up in attempted correction.’197

In a TSMPE article dating back to 1927, it was outlined that Fox-Movietone’ssoundproof recording was secured within two different sound stages: one wasbuild from thick masonry walls, the other was a double walled and roofed stage,which had empty spacing between the walls and a sound absorbing material.With this double insulation, large and small soundproof stages were constructed.T he vast soundproof stage was reserved for musicals because of the intensereverberation quality it could provide, and measured 50 feet in width, was 21 feethigh and 80 feet long. The smaller stage was 22 feet wide, by 21 feet high and56 feet long, and was assigned for recording dialogue due to its notable dampingquality. Upon the introduction of the talkies, capturing a realistic sound track198

in the set affected everyone’s assignment. Arc lights had to be placed in newpositions which did not interfere with the microphone. In the set construction,scenographic departments started introducing new materials with sound-absorbent qualities. Characters had to stand away from the doorways and corners(t o avoid the spilling out of sound through possible cracks in the joints).Otherwise, sound recording within these sections of the set would have produceda “tubby” sound quality. By then most settings’ walls continued to be producedfrom cloth to provide sufficient resonance, and the scenographic requirementswere painted on those walls of cloth. Just when sound recording was improved,set assembling went back to using solid materials. When the first half of the199

1930's came to an end, Hollywood sound recording had achieved considerableimprovements. In the small sets, Hollywood had an assured qualitative acousticcontrol in sound recording. Sets consisted of cloth, which met the scenographicrequirements of the Scenographer, and was stretched over wood skeletons whichwere braced firmly. Attention was paid in joining these frames to ensure that no

S ee E. A. Wolcott, Recent Improvements in Equipment and Technique in the Production of Motion Pictures, in: J.2 0 0

S. M. P. E., Vol. 23, No. 3 (October 1934), p. 213.

Cf. Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, pp. 103-105; the eyes are the main source201

o f fe eding information to the human nervous system, therefore eyes are considered as “information gatherers,” whichp ro v ide far more data to the nervous system than hearing or touching does; see Edward T. Hall, The Hidden Dimension.New York: Doubleday 1966, p. 61.

Verna Arvey, Present Day Musical Films and How they are Made Possible, in: The Etude, Vol. 49 (January 1931),2 0 2

pp. 61&72.

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cracks existed around the entrances and exits of the set. The backs of theseframeworks had to be covered with black fabric preventing the penetration oflight beams from coming through. Meanwhile, in the large settings, it wascommon practice in Hollywood to employ hard walls for the acoustic qualitythey could provide.200

Adding sound to the image created more aesthetic signs and data for the beholderto perceive. Here, the beholder was not simply viewing, but also listening to theact ion. Sound then had to comment on the visual and explore the beholder’simagination, and should not be a repetition of the visual. Only by balancingbetween the acoustical and visual, could the filmic narrative have an enhancedoutcome. In this audio-visual equilibrium, sight communicates far more data tothe beholder than sound does. No matter what role the sound track has in thetalking picture, a film would always be a medium of visual communicationwherein the dialogue stays its subordinate. Martin Broones, the chief of201

Metro’s music department confirmed the aforementioned. ‘The picture’ forBroones, ‘comes first, music second.’ Broones selected music that would sustaint he p ict ure’s narrative efficiency. Erno Rapee, the musical expert at FirstNational and Warner Brothers, agreed on the same principle: applying the musiccomposition to the picture and its characters, but only after defining thescenographic mood of the picture.202

In 1930, tests were carried out under the supervision of the Academy of MotionPicture Arts and Sciences in Hollywood, to reduce the noise resulting from thecarbon arc lamps while recording sound pictures. The lamps noise was picked upby the oversensitive microphone during sound recording, and solving thist echnical question was the main concern of Hollywood technicians since the

Technicians Investigate Arcs, in: A. C., Vol. 10, No. 12 (March 1930), p. 22.203

B e rn ard Freericks, Sound Recording, in: Mike Steen (Ed.), Hollywood Speaks: An Oral History. New York: G. P.2 0 4

Putnam’s Sons 1974, p. 316.

Douglas Shearer, Sound, in: Stephen Watts (Ed.), Behind the Screen: How Films are Made. London: Arthur Barker2 0 5

1938, p. 135.

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arrival of sound. During this transition period, moving picture sound recording203

went t hrough a long tunnel of technical adventure that no one previouslyattempted or experienced. “Single sound system” meant having the sound trackand t he image on a single negative, which induced an obvious disharmonybetween the image and its sound, i.e., the sound was running about twenty-oneor twenty-two frames in advance of the image. This technical problem had to besolved by cutting the sound track from the film and reinserting it back and forthuntil it joined the image. This sound-attaching technique was exercised in thephonograph recording of “At the End of a Perfect Day” in Fox’s first two-reelersound film on location The Family Picnic (1929), among other pictures. The204

microphones’ over-sensitivity recorded any and every incidental sound whilefilming a scene. MGM’s musical director, Herbert Stothart, had to conduct theorchestra without holding a thin baton in his hand, as it caused a swishing noisein the air. Robert Taylor snapped his fingers unintentionally when singing.Therefore, he was instructed to keep his hands in his pockets, while singing “I’veGot a Feelin’ You’re Foolin’ ” in Broadway Melody of 1936 (1935). The samep roblem faced Eleanor Powell when tapping her feet as she sang- she had tos t and on a rubber mat to eliminate the noise. During this critical period of205

sound recording (the transitional years), speaking of a dynamic compositioncannot be regarded as accurate. Within the form of “canned theater,” groupcomposition was almost static. It was a stage-bound composition. Characterswere gathered tightly together, with a minimum of action, and the narrative hadto be more concentrated on their conversation than dynamic. This localization ofcharacters’ composition allowed the sound mixer an easy task in manipulatingthe sound and its frequencies. We may see this elementary recording techniquein Paramount’s first all-talking picture Interference (1928), or Fox’s first all-talking feature In Old Arizona (1928), or Anna Christie (1930), in which GretaGarbo first talked, and the microphone had to be hidden within the mise-en-sceneto capture the dialogue.

T he moving picture’s years of metamorphosis worked toward establishing a

Carl Dreher, Recording, Re-Recording, and Editing of Sound, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 16, No. 6 (June 1931), p. 756.206

Clifford McCarty, Filmusic Librarian, in: Films in Review, Vol. 8, No. 6 (June-July 1957), pp. 292&293.207

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stable norm of sound recording. Hollywood attempted a post-synchronizationt echnique (or dubbing) in production. King Vidor introduced the post-synchronizing sound recording in Hallelujah (1929), where much of the picturewas shot in silence on location and the sound track added later. This allowedKing Vidor to insert the rhythm and pitch of the sound far from the incidentalnoise influences on location. Lewis Milestone, Ernst Lubitsch and RoubenMamoulian were alike in revolting against the technical constraints imposed onthe film medium by the newcomer, sound. They devised their own ways andwent around it, and succeeded where others could not in formulating a periodclaimed by film critics as the post-synchronization period. The technique was aform of liberating the camera from the soundproof booth, and the limitationsforced upon on the action by the microphone’s immobility which created“canned theater.” During this turbulent period of sound recording, Hollywoodmanaged, sometimes with ease and sometimes not, to bridge the gap created bythe technological limitations of the emerging technology.

When copying a sound track onto the film, the process is governed by: ‘(1)int elligibility of dialogue; (2) naturalness or acoustic fidelity to the originalrendition.’ By the second half of the nineteen-thirties, recording a sound206

composition in the motion picture came to a turning point. By then, recording asound track was a matter of artistic assignment; it was characterized by elaborateoriginality and a balance in sound-image juxtaposition. This high ideal of soundrecording was manifested in the task of George G. Schneider, the head ofMetro’s musical library (America’s second largest musical library, the first beingthe music division of the Library of Congress). Schneider and his staff investedabout three years of intensive research to find the authentic music for Romeo andJuliet (1936) and The Good Earth (1937). In the following years, this persistenceof p reserving a high level of acoustic fidelity continued in Schneider and hisstaff’s work. It took the team eight years to compile the authentic music for QuoVadis (1951).207

4.8 Illumination Effect and the Scenographic Space

During the early days of photoplay, sunlight was the only source of illumination

Frederick S. Mills, Film Lighting as a Fine Art, in: S. A., Vol. 124, No. 8 (February 19, 1921), p. 148; the2 0 8

c i n e ma t o g ra phic process’ dependency on light and the sunny climate of Southern California most of the year, were thep ri me attractions for basing the motion picture industry in Hollywood; Ray Hoadley, How they Make a Motion Picture.New York: Thomas Y. Crowell 1939, pp. 55&57.

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to209

1960, pp. 223&227.

Th o ma s W. Bohn and Richard L. Stromgren with Daniel H. Johnson, Light and Shadows: A History of Motion2 1 0

Pictures. Port Washington, N. Y.: Alfred Publishing 1975, pp. 228&229.

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in the interior setting that was constructed on an open stage outdoors, in that nospecial lighting effect was permissible. Daylight lacks constant intensitythroughout the day, making a scene taken in the late morning differ from anotherone recorded in the afternoon. As a result, a discontinuity emerged in the picturebetween two different shots of the same subject (from close-up to long-shot): inthe one shot the subject might look normally lit, and in the next was darker. Thisrendered effective filming elusive. In the primitive period of film-making,208

lighting the space meant helping the beholder to see. The spatial was illuminatedby one level of a diffused lighting effect, no matter what the narrative actionmight be. Infrequently a light would emerge from a fireplace or enter the spacethrough a window. Progressively, film-makers understood that highlighting somedramatic objects more than their surroundings would reveal their position in thespatial depth, and involve the beholder more in the screen narrative. Providingrealism and aesthetic to the filmic story were other vehicles of sustaining thescreen narrative. 209

Among the pioneers who tried to control their pictures with dramatic light wereMelies and Porter. By 1905, mercury-vapor tubes and carbon arc lamps wereactive in production in the East coast studios, to maintain a flat and diffusedeffect. Later came Griffith, who experimented with light as a dramatic effect, butthe shortcomings of the film emulsion and lamps available did not allow furtherexp loration with artificial lighting. In 1914, Wilfred Buckland came to210

Hollywood (to stage his sets in an aged barn, centered in the middle of orangeand lemon groves at Vine and Selma avenue). Buckland, a former Broadwayproducer and stage Scenographer at David Belasco, teamed with DeMille as anassociate of Jesse L. Lasky’s Feature Play Company. ‘The stage was an adjoiningunroofed platform two feet high, with a telephone pole at one end that was riggedwith a boom, with ail attached. This was moved around, as the sun moved, todiffuse the sunlight’s hot rays and glare.’ Buckland’s interiors, on this stage,

Arc spotlights were developed by the Kliegl Brothers of New York; Leo K. Kuter, Art Direction, in: Films in Review211

(J u n e - J uly 1957), p. 249; “Uncle” Carl Laemmle built an observation balcony alongside his outdoor “stage” platformand charged tourists and local yokels 25c to watch. Then, as now, people were interested in how movies are made. Whena rt i f i c i a l l ighting made Laemmle move indoors, the fun of Universal’s outdoor stage became a thing of the past.; ibid.,fn*

John Hambley and Patrick Downing, The Art of Hollywood: Fifty Years of Art Direction. London: Thames Television212

1979, p. 14.

Peter Baxter, On the History and Ideology of Film Lighting, in: Screen, Vol. 16, No. 3 (Autumn 1975), pp. 90&97.213

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resembled one walled set dressed with real objects. Here, painting objects on theset t ings’ walls was abandoned. Because it was believed that sunlight wasnecessary for filming, convincing those producers to use the impressive arcspotlights was not easy for Buckland. He was finally authorized to use two arcsin his sets ‘and artificial lighting came to Hollywood, and “movie sets” movedinside, out of the sun.’ By applying this artificial illumination instead of using211

daylight for lighting the interior, Wilfred Buckland re-fashioned settingillumination in Hollywood. Buckland’s introduction of the theatrical lightingeffect of Kliegl lights allowed him to sustain a drama and realistic mood, as wellas achieve aesthetical visualization and elevate the narrative efficiency of thes ilent visually rather than verbally. Buckland’s interior lighting method wasinstrumental in shifting Hollywood production into a new era of filming aroundthe clock throughout the 1930's and 1940's.212

Up to the early 1920's, two-sources lighting was the standard in Hollywood.DeMille’s cinematographer, Alvin Wyckoff, was the artist who exposed WilfredBuckland’s sets to a highly narrative illumination. With Wyckoff’s artisticap plication, lighting a scene was no longer a matter of whether or not it wasreasonably lit to produce an adequately exposed negative; lighting the set orcharacters’ composition came to mean reflecting a dramatic mood, with varioussources and levels of lighting effect that sustained the dramatic quality of thescene. ‘The model of lighting in the American Cinema’ observed Peter Baxter,‘lies in the practice adopted by DeMille, Buckland, and Wyckoff ,the use ofwhich entailed acquiescence to the contradiction of a light, that, in the words ofthe reviewer, is both ‘natural’ and ‘expressive”. Archetypically, arc lights were213

beneficial on the stage for their blue-white effect. On the set, Kliegle lamps notonly generated high temperatures and ultra-violet rays troubling the characters,but went to the extent of harming them. Flickering arc lamps did not match with

Ibid., pp. 90&91.214

King Vidor, On Film Making. New York: McKay 1972, p. 148.215

Mary Eunice McCarthy, Hands of Hollywood. Hollywood: Photoplay Research Bureau 1929, pp. 60&97.216

Pan and Sound put Inkies on Top, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 3 (April 1938), p. 43.217

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the consistency of the film exposer, which rendered Cooper-Hewitt mercury-vapor tubes to be an advantageous source of light on the studio set. Cooper-Hewitt provided an intense blue, ultra-violet radiance, and other colors producingactinic effects, because mercury vapor was not composing any complementarytones to the red of the color palette. On Orthochromatic emulsion these red tonesdid not exude any cinematographic quality. Mercury-vapor lamps produced highactinic intensity, i.e., true cinematographic quality. During the filming, the arc214

lamp s’ high intensity of radiant white on the set had to be toned down byreleasing carbon powder in the air that went everywhere on the set. Workingunder t hese conditions caused the characters severe eye pain, and by thefollowing day they were not able to continue their job.215

Aft er the arrival of talkies, set lighting was revolutionized by the significantcourse of change from arc to incandescent light (Mazda lamps). Noisy arcs fromthe silent era were now substituted by the noiseless incandescent tungsten light.This technological metamorphosis invited some divided opinions among film-makers: some opposed, while others favored the new change. Incandescent lightcreat ed blurred and hazy images resulting in the loss of some details of thesubject recorded. This resulted in some studios going back to using arcs andplacing the hissing arcs within a soundproof box, allowing the light to penetratethrough a glass front. Mazda lamps were more cost effective, lighter in weight,consumed less current, were simpler to use and provided a softer image, whichmotivated some cinematographers to use Mazda exclusively. In 1928, when216

incandescent tungsten lamps came onto the market, they not only replacedcarbon arcs, but also Cooper-Hewitt mercury-vapor tubes, which had been thenorm in moving picture set lighting for two decades. In association with217

Hollywood, a series of tests of Panchromatic and Mazda were conducted throughthe Academy Research Council during the Winter of 1927-1928. The results ofthese tests were announced at a conference of the SMPE, which described thegreat advantages of Mazda: ‘the cost of incandescent equipment represented asaving of almost 55 percent; operation, a saving of nearly 58 per cent; and in

‘Th e f i rst incandescent unit developed commercially was an analogous to the arc broadside universally employed2 1 8

fo r “ g e n e ra l ” and “filler” lighting. These first “inkie” broadsides borrowed much from arc practice.’ see Pan and SoundPut Inkies on Top, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 3 (April 1938), pp. 44&45; R. E. Farnham, Motion Picture Studio Lighting WithIn c a n descent Lamps, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood: The American Society ofCinematographers 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), p. 253; a Special IncandescentLi g h t R e s earch Committee held a meeting on Saturday, March 3 1928, to review the Mazda tests preceded at Warner’srd,

s t u d i o .. Tests were classified according to the following: ‘1. Comparative Tests of Mazda and Carbon Lights. 2. HighestEfficiency in Mazda Lighting. 3. Mazda Light Effects. 4. Color Chart. 5. Make-up Tests. 6. Deficiency in Mazda Lighting.7 . Mi x e d Li g h t ing-Mazda, Carbon Lights, (White and Yellow) Neon, Cooper-Hewitt.’ See The Mazda Tests, in: A. C.,Vol. 9, No. 1 (April 1928), p. 30.

S e e Lewis Jacobs, The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History. New York: Teachers College Press 1939, P.2 1 9

4 4 5 ; G e o rg e P . Erengis, Cedric Gibbons: Set a Standard for Art Direction that Raised the Movies’ Cultural Level, in:Fi l m s i n Re v iew (April 1965), p. 226; Howard Mandelbaum and Eric Myers, Screen Deco: A celebration of High Stylein Hollywood. New York: St. Martin’s Press 1985, p. 34.

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current used, an economy of close to 65 per cent.’ Upon combining these withthe new cinematographic quality of Mazda and Panchromatic film, a sweepingchange in lighting the set came into being. The arrival of sound, meanwhile,came to speed up this transition. By then, during the filming of the frequent longtak es , set s had to be free from noise and flickering light. The new “inkies”proposed the answer in every studio’s set. 218

With the change from carbon arcs to Mazda lighting, and from Orthochromaticto Panchromatic film, a new era of illuminating and arranging the ScenographicSpace was introduced in Hollywood. Previously, arc lamps did not allow theapplication of pure white color on the sets. The arc dictated the reproduction ofwhit e tone into being either green or pink- if not, the tonal values of the setwould have been glaring. Mazda showed the real value of white color, which wasenhanced by the new speedy emulsion of Panchromatic to produce a polishedimage of the Moderne on the screen. This technological breakthrough enabled219

Hollywood Scenographers to deliver the Moderne with its constituents to thescreen throughout the 1930's, and establish the “house style” without reservation.Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer initiated a scenographic convention of overpoweringwhite in the studio’s spatial organization. Right from Hollywood’s revolutionaryyear of 1928, Cedric Gibbons started with Art Deco stylization of overwhelmingwhite tones: in Our Dancing Daughters (1928), The Kiss (1929), Grand Hotel(1932), The Merry Widow (1934), The Great Ziegfeld (1936), and MarieAntoinette (1938) Cedric Gibbons introduced a new setting style, dominated byoverpowering white tones, to the screen. So did Paramount in One Hour WithYou (1932), Duck Soup (1933), or Artists and Models (1937), and RKO inAstaire-Rogers’ musical cycle , gaining the trademark of “BWS.” With the new

Arthur Edwin Krows, The Talkies. New York: Henry Holt 1930, pp. 162&163.220

Ernst Lindgren, The Art of the Film. New York: The Macmillan 1963, p. 125; Laurence Goldstein and Jay Kaufman,2 21

Into Film. New York: E. P. Dutton 1976, p. 266.

Lewis W. Physioc, More About Lighting, in: I. P., Vol. 8, No. 7 (August 1936), p. 4.222

Wiard B. Ihnen and D. W. Atwater, The Artistic Utilization of Light in the Photography of Motion Pictures, in: T.S.223

M. P. E., Vol. 21 (May 1925), p. 28.

King Vidor, On Film Making. New York: McKay 1972, pp. 150&151.224

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Pan and Mazda, these leaders of the Moderne gained a new artistic freedom int heir set tings, and consequently sketched a new canonical idiom in filmscenography that imposed its values not only on other studios, but even on theway American women treated the interiors of their homes.

An ideal exposition of a film is governed by the light’s quantity, intensity as wellas by its diffusion. Sufficient illumination means lighting what is occurring in thescene so that it is visible, and permitting shadow where it would look natural.The attention should be concentrated on lighting the characters and not the set.When illuminating a scene, the chief section of light should be the focus ofat t ent ion. Added to those lighting principles comes the direction of light.220

Within the set, all these lighting effects are united simultaneously to project acert ain dramatic mood, while each of these illumination’s principles must beevaluated independently. 221

Illuminating a scene with a flat lighting defeats the quality of the form. Artisticphotography depends on three factors, reflects Lewis W. Physioc: ‘First, therendering of effects. Second, the preservation of natural beauty. Third, thesuggestion of proper form.’ Distributing lights and shades in a given “shot”222

is a process that is more elusive than that of applying color on a canvas. Theprinciple of tone distribution in a shot relates to the canons of pictorial art, andby taking these as a reference, it will guide the cinematographer in deciding towhere every tone should be assigned. Carrying out this artistic formula is a time-consuming process that refuses to be linked to any particular procedure.223

Furthermore, lighting a scene is not governed by a certain formula, said KingVidor, as it is an matter of interpretation. The most agreeably narrativeillumination in studio set lighting is that calling for simplicity, which is not easyto secure. 224

Victor Milner, Painting with Light, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood: The American2 2 5

Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), pp. 96&97.

Ibid., p. 106.226

Ibid., pp. 106&108.227

Lewis W. Physioc, Cinematography an Art Form, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood:2 2 8

The American Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), p. 25.

255

It is highly recommended that a balance should be secured between the mood oft he filmic story and its illumination. A well-lit picture does not only have ahighly narrative quality, but it prepares the beholder for perceiving that particularmood of narrative action. In the early days of film production, exterior night-225

scenes were filmed during the daytime, and sets were under-exposed to the lightthen printed on blue tinted emulsion. After the introduction of the new lightingunit s , and the accelerated trend for capturing ever more realism in the filmicimage, after-dark scenes were shot at night. The cinematographer was enabledto command definite lighting control in the exterior, just as it was handled in anint erior scene. In the modern settings, multi-camera shooting, or using a226

moving camera, imposed a new challenge on illuminating these sets, becausewhen the camera moved or its set-up is altered in the Scenographic Space, a greatdegree of lighting multiplication was required in the space to match the action.227

Lighting effect and composition relate closely to one another, as the effect oflight has convincing possibilities to illustrate drawing lines and composition.When taking a scene (mostly an exterior one), changing of the camera angle mayt ransmit a disturbing and poor-looking shadow onto a cheerful effect or acomposition. Sometimes the story lines call for simple spatial arrangement,where a t rue artistic distribution of the lighting effect will cover the lack ofaesthetic and lend the set a sense of grace. ‘In this manner, we have frequentlyseen very simple sets made to appear very beautiful. This suggests an element ofart that has been grossly neglected -that of simplicity.’ These realizations involvean experienced eye to transform the words into a delightful image. We have228

seen t his principle of simplicity in the previous Chapters, and how WarnerBrothers’ shabby sets of the gangster genre captured the attention of the onlookerthrough their highly artistic illumination; without the contribution of light in thecinematographic treatment, there would be no other way of recording an image.Out of the combination between light and shade not only emerges a spatial depth,

V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, p. 61.229

Lee Simonson, The Art of Scenic Design: A Pictorial Analysis of Stage Setting and its Relation to Theatrical2 3 0

Production. New York: Harper & Brothers 1950, pp. 28-29&31.

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 17, No. 4 (October 1931), p. 645.231

William Cameron Menzies, Pictorial Beauty in the Photoplay, in: Richard Koszarski (Ed.), Hollywood Directors2 3 2

1914-1940. New York: Oxford University Press 1976, p. 244.

Hans Dreier, Designing the Sets, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937,2 33

p. 86.

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but from this every other visual aspect in the image will be transmitted. Light andshade are two unified mediums of representation, they are the cause and theeffect at the same time. Under the variation of light the spatial dimensions can229

either be enlarged or reduced. Light defines the shape of a subject and blots itout . The scenographic organization is only complete when it is finallyilluminated, and manipulating the lighting balance of the set will ruin itsaesthetical charm, flatten the depth, destroy the form, wash its tonal values outand make it uninviting.230

In a Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, submitted in a conference in theSpring of 1931 in Hollywood, it was decided that the power consumption for theset illumination, ‘per square foot of floor area within the set,’ alternated between50 and 150 watts. Under such intensity and diffusion level of lighting the set,231

Hollywood established its various genres, which landmarked the Golden Age.T he American film industry assigned certain lighting tones for every type ofaction unfolded within the Scenographic Space, forming various levels of story-telling on the American screen: William Cameron Menzies defined that tragedyor p at hos are narrative under low-key illumination. Reflecting a comedycomposition is granted by a mood of caricature, and sentiments are balanced bythe sense of the diffusion, while violence and melodrama predominantly need alow-key lighting effect, with violent highlights. Asserting this narrative quality232

in the set is not complete unless the spatial arrangement allows that balance. ‘Themost at t ractive set is (otherwise) worthless if it cannot be photographed ’,commented Hans Dreier.233

In an article written by Clifford Howard for Close Up magazine in January 1928,Howard praises the Scenographer and cinematographer’s artistic effort. For

Clifford Howard, A Hollywood Close-Up, in: Close Up, Vol. 2. No. 1 (January 1928), p. 20.234

W. M. Roy Mott, White Light for Motion Picture Photography, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 8 (Philadelphia: Meeting of235

April 14-16, 1919), pp. 10&12.

It is noteworthy to say that the set’s fourth wall is absent, but the beholder never missed it; R. Myerscough-Walker,236

Stage and Film Decor. London: Pitman 1939, p. 134.

James Mitchell Leisen, Some Problems of the Art Director, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 12, No. 33 (1928), pp. 77&78.237

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Howard, pictorially, the cinematographer’s task outranks all the assignments ofthe production team, because the pictorial outcome of the film rests in the handsof t he cinematographer, and the latter’s job is governed by the spirit of thepicture (light). ‘The moving picture industry is the only industry dominated234

geographically by the question of light.’ With no exception, every interior settingof t he mot ion picture needs some degree of artificial lighting in order to berecorded (seen). This elevates the set’s artificial illumination to the degree ofbeing consequential.235

Usually, the way light reaches the set relates immediately to the Scenographer’sorganization of an unroofed set, because, mostly, the main source of lighting theset emerges from above, which in turn makes it difficult to plan a set with aceiling. Correspondingly, letting the light source emerge from around the set willrequire the absence of its fourth wall, which would stay unnoticed by thebeholder. It is, therefore, understandable that some settings’ compositions areheld away from the ceiling to keep its absence unnoticed. Yet someScenographers arrange ceilinged sets and still achieve the balance of the spatialillumination. Earlier (Chapters Two and Three), I covered this balance between236

the narrative action and lighting of a roofed-over set.

Occas ionally, certain sections of some settings are not easy to control withillumination. James Mitchell Leisen handled such a question of light byshowering aluminum paint on those spots or by painting them with light color toblot them out. Before the actual shooting, Gregg Toland made some extensive237

preparations on the set. On each of Les Miserables’ [1935] fifty-four sets, it tookToland about three hours, sometimes working until dawn, to arrange their propermood of lighting. ‘Right on the daisy cloth, by his instructions, the painters’spray guns put in the shadows, accentuated the blacks, definitely determined thegrays, brushed in highlights; providing a supplemented foundation for his light

Toland’s daily set-ups in Les Miserables required about twenty-eight takes. He finished shooting the picture in thirty-238

six days, compiling one thousand fifteen set-ups; see Harry Burdick, Intensive Preparation Underlies Toland’sAchievements, in: A. C., Vol. 16, No. 6 (June 1935), p. 240.

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 38, No. 3 (March 1942), p. 281.239

A. Knight, The Liveliest Art: A Panoramic History of the Movies, pp. 20&21.240

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to play upon.’ To every scene of the picture Toland assigned a laboratory liaisonofficer, recording the required data for later laboratory purposes. All this238

allowed Toland to create maximum cinematographic quality upon the screen.Some of Hollywood’s Scenographers, such as William Cameron Menzies andCharles D. Hall, were masters in applying light and shade to their spatialorganization. Through their tonal manipulation, they attained an Expressionisticatmosphere and highly narrative visualization. This was , for example, notablymanifested in The Iron Mask (1929), and The Black Cat (1934).

In a report of the Studio Lighting Committee, presented at the 1941 Fall Meetingin New York, it was indicated that manufacturers supplied Hollywood studioswith a special “exposure meter,” which aided in achieving maximum accuracyand time efficiency in setting up the lighting units. The new device gathered thelight in a translucent hemisphere and was graduated ‘in lens f / values instead ofin foot-candles’. The exposure meter’s calibration was devised to match eachstudio’s need. Manufacturers of the American film industry provided each239

s t udio with custom-made devices, to meet each studio’s requirements and tosustain their own outlook on the screen (style). On the other side of the coin, hardwork and high artistic skills were present within every studio and on every levelof production, to maintain that artistic ideal.

4.8.1 High-Key: Flood Lighting the Set

David W. Griffith believed in enhancing the narrative and aesthetical stylizationof his scenes through the composing of highly contrasted tonal values, that hetermed “Rembrandt Lighting.” Like David W. Griffith, Cecil B. DeMille was240

interested in this illumination model of conventional composition. Yet with thenew technological improvements of lighting equipment and the increasing speedof Panchromatic emulsion, a new mood in illuminating a scene could be achievedin Hollywood productions. This characterized a new concept in motion pictureset lighting, and in particular enabled lighting those settings of the ‘extravaganza’

R. E. Farnham, Incandescent Lighting Improves, in: A. C., Vol. 10, No. 1 (April 1929), pp. 31&33.241

Lewis Jacobs, The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History. New York: Teachers College Press 1939, P. 445;2 4 2

P a t r i c k L. O g le, Technological and Aesthetic Influences Upon the Development of Deep Focus Cinematography in theUnited States, in: Screen, Vol. 13, No. 1 (Spring 1972), p. 51.

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type, i.e., revealing every one of the spatial attributes for the beholder to seewhile preserving the narrative excellence at the same time. After being in use foralmost a year, incandescent tungsten lamps marked this anniversary by markinga turning point in studio cinematography. For the lighting of the Paradise NightClub in Broadway (1929), Hal Mohr used Mazda lighting units of variousintensities. ‘Forty-eight hundred lamps, ranging in size from 40 to 5000 watts,and totaling 3,900,000 watts,’ were put in service highlighting the grand scalestylization of the Art Deco setting. Flooding the set with this intensity of Mazdalight marked a new era in the enrichment of studio illumination. The241

emergence of the new high speed Panchromatic film was complimented by thenew technological innovation of incandescent lamps. Added to these was the newform of the Moderne, which cannot be better displayed under any other mood oflighting than by high-intensity illumination. Both Hollywood Scenographer andcinematographer had entered a new age of set visualization in motion picturehistory.

In the year 1928, Hollywood repeatedly witnessed historical changes: withEastman Kodak’s finer-grained Type I Panchromatic film and its softp hot ograp hic quality, carbon arc abandoned for Mazda lamps in the studiolight ing, and sound introduction into the film-making, a new convention forarranging the set had emerged. Hollywood’s Scenographers redefined theirconcept of spatial organization, because white color could be introduced in theirsettings, which had been hitherto impractical in its application. Sound resonanceor damping within the set required prompt solutions, which further required the242

ut ilization of new materials and the exercise of new techniques in the settingcons t ruction, as we have seen earlier in the foregoing analysis. With theset echnological breakthroughs, Hollywood entered a formation period of newvisual s t yles and genres. Within a tight time frame, the American studiosmastered these newborn technologies to produce cycles that established a modelof filming for coming times, and had no match throughout the history of the film.

During MGM’s past, the studio preferably flooded its sets with lights.Expenditure on settings was high, and this lavish cost had to be flooded with

Eric Sherman (Ed.), Directing the Film: Film Directors on their Art. Boston: Little, Brown 1976, pp. 132&133.243

Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Direction in the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina and London:2 4 4

McFarland 1990, pp. 58&59.

Ibid., p. 58.245

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light to be seen. Cinematographers were instructed to expose the spatialproperties to a high-key, and if someone ventured shooting the sets with a low-key, he would be fired. Metro’s film scenographic style and visualization were243

established during the early years of the studio’s formation. Louis B. Mayer, thehead of the studio, opposed any distorted mannerism or arty stylization in thestudio’s screen image. Mayer was convinced in his belief that people visit themovie theater to see stars and not a landscape or beautiful pictures. He wantedhis character stars to be exposed to as much light as possible. MGM’s244

institutional constraints would never allow the lighting intensity, per square footon the set floor, to be under a certain wattage. The philosophy behind this wasclear: to permit the exhibition of Metro’s pictures even in the least technicallyequipped theaters. ‘Full high-key lighting, bright and relatively shadowless, cameto be synonymous with MGM productions and in close-ups a kind of glamourousback-lighting called “Rembrandt” lighting was developed for their male andparticularly for their female stars.’ This level of lighting came to dominate mostof Metro’s exquisite still photographs of its stars for the next two decades, aftert he emergence of talking pictures. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, the name that245

carried the image of heyday, gloss and glamour, was sustained by thoseimpressive technological improvements and skilled artists who formed faultlessadap t ations of Moderne on the American screen. Richard Day and CedricGibbons’ settings for Our Dancing Daughters (1928), and The Kiss (1929) arescenographically classified among the most visually lasting Art Deco stylizationsthat Hollywood could afford. Sets of the Moderne reached that narrative levelonly after they were illuminated with high-key intensity, which brought themcloser to the beholder. Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise (1931), Dinner at Eight(1934), Broadway Melody of 1936 (1935), Rosalie (1937), or Conquest (1938)are further productions of this class. William Daniels shot the settings of HobeErwin and Fred Hope in Dinner at Eight, balancing between the spatial form,dramatic atmosphere and high-key illumination. With this lighting level, Danielssus t ained keeping the space, while framing the action, scenographicallynarrative. Even in other period productions, Gibbons or his team did not hesitateto introduce their favored color -“white.” The historical-musical, Maytime

Pan and Sound Put Inkies on Top, in: I. P., Vol. 10, No. 3 (April 1938), p. 48.246

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(1937), is a typical picture in this regard. Its sets are overwhelmingly white,somewhat anachronistically, but only to enforce the studio’s image on the screen.

Paramount’s Lubitschian comedy relied significantly on the white tone andflooding the set with light. This lighting quality well matched the rhythm of theaction and kept every bit of it constantly perceived, while the Marx Brothers’dadais tic comedy adapted the same lighting intensity to its narrative. InUniversal’s musical comedy, Top of the Town (1937), the new film stock allowedJohn Harkrider and Jack Martin Smith to define the depth of the ScenographicSpace with tiny lights in the background. Under a sparkling light, every line andsurface of the Streamlined Art Moderne in the Moonbeam Room was clearlyvisible. The same lighting key marked Columbia’s Lost Horizon (1937). InRKO’s “BWS,” the studio established its own high-key lighting that continuedbeing used throughout the studio’s musicals during the nineteen-thirties. Whenthe American studios delivered a new image onto the screen, it only came aftert he new technological improvements had enabled that approach, and allowedHollywood’s artists to form their distinctive image by exposing the space and itsproperties to contrasted tonal treatment or high-key lighting.

Between 1928 and 1938, technological refinements in studio lighting reached anotable degree of progress. Fast-Films and the new lighting units contributedeffectively to the use of an ever-decreasing wattage for lighting the space. A newtechnique, named “key lighting,” was developed, freeing the set floor from beingclut t ered with the complication of general or flood lighting equipment. Keylighting called for mounting a few light sources higher beside the camera, andoperated as a key light in illuminating the focus of attention, so the set and theaction’s general lighting emerged from above, from spotlights mounted on lamprails. ‘This is largely a result of the moving-camera technique, for it was earlylearned that the old method of lighting from the floor not only interfered with thecamera’s movement but gave rise to undesirable shadows as the camera-anglechanged.’ Enhanced by technological support, Hollywood’s image on the246

screen gained an increasingly narrative accent of realism. When Dead End(1937) reached an original narrative value in both interior and exterior settings,on the screen, the picture had depended significantly on the improved arclighting units. Dead End needed a large crew of electricians to light the picture’sone principal set and to help ‘pulling 8000 amperes on practically every scene

Th e c ost of the picture’s main set reached 62,000 dollars; Toland’s “Dead End” Selected in Caucus one of Three2 4 7

B e s t , i n: A. C., Vol. 19, No. 4 (April 1938), pp. 141&142; regarding the “key-light” see also R. G. Linderman, C. W.H a n l e y , a nd A. Rogers, Illumination in the Motion Picture Production, in: S. M. P. E. (Ed.), The Technique of MotionPicture Production. New York: Interscience 1944, p. 72.

G regg Toland, Using Arcs for Lighting Monochrome, in: A. C., Vol. 22, No. 12 (December 1941), p. 558; Gregg2 4 8

Toland, I Broke the Rules in Citizen Kane, in: Popular Photography, Vol. 8, No. 6 (June 1941), pp. 55, 90&91.

W i l l i a m Stull, The Elements of Lighting, in: Hal Hall and William Stull (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 2,2 4 9

H o l l y w o o d : The American Society of Cinematographers 1931(Rep. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times1972), p. 312.

William Stull, Cinematography Simplified, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood: The250

American Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep., New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), p. 477.

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exposed.’ Gregg Toland intended recreating artificial sunlight on the main set.He secured this level of light intensity when ‘he bunched eight arc lamps on onehuge parallel for his key lighting.’ By the early 1940's, carbon arc lamps were247

improved to the level of being used not only in Technicolor illumination, but inlighting monochrome as well. The modern carbon arc has been considered as themost intense and best lighting unit available for simulating artificial sunshine.Additionally, its penetrating capacity with a notable blue-white radiation, placedthe arc above any other lighting source available. By then, maintaining a depthcue on large exterior settings required ‘the use of arc equipment to supplementthe more familiar Mazda.’ The arc also worked well in illuminating relativelysmall sets with dark and light absorbing walls, yet deep and crowded as in Ballof Fire (1941). Gregg Toland admitted that without the modern arc, shootingCitizen Kane (1941) could not have been possible. 248

4.8.2 Direction-Selective Light

Two basic conditions govern the illumination of any subject for the camera work:one calls for sufficient lighting of the subject to obtain a proper exposure, and theother requires light to induce the maximum impression of roundness and depthcue when it reaches the subject. Furthermore, in the photographic process light249

is codified under two levels: hard and soft light. Hard light resembles thesunlight on a clear day, and it produces a high contrast and sharp angles in theimage. Soft light, as its name infers, creates softer angles, with weak contrast anddiffusion. Still ‘the direction from which the principal illumination falls upon asubject has a distinct bearing upon the way it will photograph.’ Hollywood’s250

cinematographer William Stull summed up his recommendations to amateur

Ibid., pp. 477&478; Nilsen defined eight principles of lighting a subject: back, front, right, left, both sides (right and251

left), top, bottom and mixed lighting effects; see V. Nilsen, The Cinema as a Graphic Art, pp. 62&63.

William Stull, Cinematography Simplified, in: Hal Hall (Ed.), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 1, Hollywood: The252

A me ri c a n Society of Cinematographers 1930 (Rep. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), pp. 481-485.

D a vid Bordwell, Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley 1979, p.2 5 3

84.

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filmers, on how to introduce their lighting effects when lighting a figure: sidelight (right or left) will create natural shadows and a realistic impression.Lighting a subject from above produces repulsive shade, is mostly intense and‘is too balanced for pleasing photography.’ Shooting against the light sourceinduces the most expressive effect, as it outlines a figure and lends theimpression of depth. Back-light reveals the subject’s contoural outlines and givesthe hair of a character a shimmering look. It is cheerful and gives the impressionof depth. Backlighting is dramatic in land- or seascape takes, and is advisable forfull figure shots. 251

William Stull maintained that usually four methods are central in the interiorlight ing, and the effect of these is at its best when two or more of them areassociated together: front lighting has the same plain effect of the exterior’s frontlighting, as it provides no depth cue; side lighting divides the subject into twoportions, one shaded and other highlighted. It is appropriate for certain dramaticmeans but not for overall application. Interior backlighting is commonly utilizedin combination with other lighting effects; if used alone, with sufficient intensity,it would create a silhouette. If backlighting moves slightly to either side of thesubject it becomes a cheerful rim-light outlining the subject. Finally, three-quarter front lighting is another means of natural illumination. If the light sourceis intense, it reveals details of the figure’s texture, and thus is the most practicedmethod in studio lighting. A key light (side light), fill light (another side light)252

and a backlight were a lighting model used in Hollywood’s studio lighting: afterthe key light governs the scene and produces the main shades, the fill light willsoften these shades or wash them out, and then backlighting will be introducedin the scene. Hollywood standardized this norm of studio lighting in each shot,which was called “three-point lighting.” Hollywood also used a fourth source oflight, with less wattage, that was placed in the back of the scene. Hollywood253

film-makers established this lighting model to become an unchallenged form oflighting a scene during the 1930's. This type of lighting in a scene guided the eye

Wm. Roy Mott, White Light for Motion Picture Photography, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 8 (Philadelphia Meeting of April254

14-16, 1919), p. 10.

A. B. Laing, Designing Motion Picture Sets, in: The Architectural Record, Vol. 74 (July 1933), pp. 63&64.255

D u ring photoplay’s silent period, character backlighting with carbon arc (spotlights) was a common convention in2 5 6

H o l l y wood, to detach a figure from its background and gain a depth cue in the space; Frederick S. Mills, Film Lightingas a Fine Art, in: S. A., Vol. 124, No. 8 (February 19, 1921), p. 148.

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of the viewer to the center of attention without any distraction. In particular,t hree-point lighting provided an exquisite narrative effect of a characters’composition, and lent to the setting a sense of the novelty of depth.

Rear lighting a scene is an impressive model that delivers natural and narrativeimages to the screen. Hollywood studios used backlighting to underline the254

glamour of their blonde female stars, and separate the characters from theirbackground. In pointing a spotlight toward a character’s head from the back,255

the character will gain roundness, while the scene will obtain a sense of depth.Without rear lighting a scene, it would lack the impression of depth, and figureswould not be detached from their background, ‘no matter how far out they stoodin the perspective.’ Hollywood advocated the backlighting effect with blonde256

hair during the 1930's, trying to convince the beholder of the blonde’s ultimatebeauty. This was a representational convention that distinguished, mostly,Paramount’s and Metro’s pictures. But when backlighting a scene was introducedalone in t he set with a certain intensity, it provided a totally new mood ofnarrative. In The Black Cat (1934), John J. Mescall and his team’s camera workused backlighting to reveal the eeriness of the character, and to invite thebeholder to assume that there is a moving phantom in the open space.

By merely placing some light sources on both sides of the camera and simplyfilming a group composition or a character in a three-walled and unroofed set,the scene would not contain any depth cue, plane separation or details. Each ofthese lights would cast a shadow on the opposite wall of the set. Commissioninga few spotlights above the set focussing on the background of the scene, wouldremedy this question. These spotlights would cast off the distracting shadows onthe side walls, but would circle the composition, and therefore separate it fromits surroundings. Spot light may produce some shadows on the setting floor,

Wiard B. Ihnen and D. W. Atwater, The Artistic Utilization of Light in the Photography of Motion Pictures, in: T.S.257

M. P. E., Vol. 21 (May 1925), p. 26.

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 30, No. 3 (March 1938), p. 294.258

O ri g i n ally, James Wong Howe planned to shoot and direct a silent documentary about the farmers’ life in China.2 5 9

Mu c h of this footage was borrowed in Shanghai Express joining the camera work of Lee Garmes; Charles Higham,Hollywood Cameramen: Sources of Light. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press 1970, pp. 42& 83.

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 33, No. 1 (July 1939), pp. 98&99.260

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which would distract less from the narrative action. When light beams emerge257

from above the set and travel a distance to reach their targets, ‘the so- called“general lighting units,” with their broad beam spreads and limited penetratingpower, have almost entirely given way to spotlighting equipment with accuratelycont rollable beam spreads.’ Lee Garmes twice captured a highly narrative258

image in Shanghai Express (1932). ‘I just had an inky-dinky spot directly overher [Marlene Dietrich’s] head, that’s all. And I used that again when she stoodat the back of the train. Things like that won me the Oscar.’ When Lee Garmes259

placed Marlene Dietrich under the ‘inky-dinky’ spot, he highlighted her blondehair and detached Dietrich from her surroundings. With that distinctive simplicityof spotlighting, Lee Garmes drew the beholder’s attention only to the characterand what she had to say.

In a Report of the Studio Lighting Committee presented at the 1939 SpringMeeting in Hollywood, it was pronounced: Faster-Films created an unresolvedquestion as to how low the lighting level of the studio setting may be assignedand still provide a quality image. In addition, whether the cinematographicquality could be enhanced or not by higher levels of set lighting with a reducedlens aperture. The Report observed a holding-back in the use of the studio’sfloodlighting lamps, while acceleration in the use of spotlighting units wasregistered. This lighting trend signaled a proper shooting level, in which shadedsections of the set were permitted to be dark, and this made small spotlightsfavored in illuminating a scene. The Committee Report maintained that with260

t he new films, the amount of lighting units used equaled that introducedpreviously for securing the same general quality of filming, but the intensity levelof those lamps was reduced either by the application of less wattage, smallercarbon arc lamps, by utilizing diffusers, or placing the lamps far away from thecamera. The reduction of the studio lighting relates to the desired image’squality, i.e., sharp or soft. ‘Considerable light reduction has been accomplished

Ibid., p. 99.261

A c c o rding to G. Gaudio, these early “Aristo” arcs were ‘adapted probably from street-lighting service’; G. Gaudio,2 6 2

A New View Point on the Lighting of Motion Pictures, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 29, No. 2 (August 1937), p. 160.

Joseph V. Mascelli, What’s Happened to Photographic Style? in: I. P., Vol. 30, No. 1 (January 1958), p. 5; DeMille263

re c e i v e d a telegram from the head of the sales department: “Have you gone mad? Do you expect us to be able to sell ap i c ture for full price when you show only half of the man?” Then came the exhibitors sending DeMille “We don’t knowwhat to do; we can’t sell this picture.” By then DeMille boldly replied “If you[r] fellows are so dumb that you don’t knowR e mb ra n d t l i g h t ing when you see it, don’t blame me.” ‘The sales department said, “Rembrandt lighting! What a salesa rg u ment!” They took the picture out and charged the exhibitor twice as much for it because it had Rembrandt lighting.’S e e C e cil B. DeMille, Motion Picture Directing, in: T. S. M. P. E., Vol. 12, No. 34 (1928), p. 300; Rembrandt had themain source of light in his studio coming through a large window (in the ceiling or at the end of the studio) from the north.Rembrandt presented some details on his canvas, only to the extent of what he wanted the beholder to see- the rest of thesed e t a i l s w e re l e ft out to invite the beholder’s imagination to continue the composition. Lee Garmes imitated Rembrandti n h i s c o n c e p t of low-key illumination; Charles Higham, Hollywood Cameramen: Sources of Light. Bloomington andLondon: Indiana University Press 1970, p. 35.

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in some cases, but the present trend seems to be toward higher levels.’261

During t he earliest stages of artificial illumination, “Aristo” carbon arcs andCooper-Hewitt mercury-vapor tubes were the means of lighting the set with anintensity substituting the light of the sun. These lighting units were positionedalways in the same place above, with a fixed wattage for lighting the set. Settingswere constructed ‘to conform to the lighting.’ Additionally, front light (arc andCooper-Hewitt) flooded the set from units mounted on upholds on the set floorclose to the camera. This produced a flat image lacking any depth cue quality.262

In The Warrens of Virginia (1913), DeMille and his cinematographer AlvinWyckoff experimented with direction light, by exposing the set only to a lightsource from the side. This one-source lighting effect was contested by DeMille’s,partner Samuel Goldwyn, who sent DeMille a telegram complaining from NewYork: “Exhibitors will pay only half usual rental for film because only half ofactors’ faces are lit. Advise.” DeMille replied from Hollywood: “Tell them that’sRembrandt lighting. Charge them double!” 263

Back- and spotlighting in Warners’ gangster genre were concepts borrowed fromthe Germanic Expressionist school. Light in the crime cycle may emerge froma single street lantern or a shop window, and may rise ‘inexplicably from aroundthe corner of a building -cutting up the image into foreground, middle groundand background, the latter often left in pitch darkness. Silhouettes created by cut-

Beverly Heisner, Hollywood Art: Art Direction in the Days of the Great Studios. North Carolina and London:2 6 4

McFarland 1990, pp. 137&138.

Calvin Pryluck, The Aesthetic Relevance of the Organization of Film Production, in: Cinema Journal, Vol. 15, No.2 6 5

2 (Spring 1976), p. 4.

Spilled light is a risky matter when dealing with the new film; James Wong Howe, Lighting, in: Hal Hall and William266

S t u l l (Ed . ), Cinematographic Annual. Vol. 2, Hollywood: The American Society of Cinematographers 1931 (Rep. NewYork: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972), p. 59.

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outs break up the stark walls.’ Much of this illumination technique was settled264

beforehand in the studio’s scenographic department, and in particular on AntonGrot’s sketching board, who decided on the mood and dramatic quality of thepictures he was working on in advance. Thereafter, this predetermination of thedramatic values was transmitted to the screen. An immediate glance at Grot’ssketches for Captain Blood (1935), for instance, would reveal this dramatic pre-staging of the picture’s artificial illumination. By contrast to MGM’s cameramenduring the 1930's, Warner Brothers’ cinematographers were directed to bypassexposing their sets’ corners to light, because the studio wanted them to concealthe shabby build-quality.265

4.8.3 Low-Key Illumination: Diffused Light

James Wong Howe has always regarded the low-key lighting effect as hisbeloved choice. This tonal application of light values is the commonly-acceptedtradition when illuminating melodrama, bold drama and sometimes melodramaticcomedy-drama. Two lighting formulas will provide these atmospheres: ‘one maylay a foundation of soft, diffused light, and build up to the required highlights -orone may determine his highlights, and let the rest graduate down to the requiredshadows.’ Faster-Films encouraged Howe to go with the latter type, becausethese dramas relied notably on a dominant velvet shades, and did not need manylight ing units. After assigning the high and modeling lights to the set, ‘the“ sp illed” light which leaks from even the best of equipment, will keep yourshadows from becoming too unpleasantly empty.’ A close reading of James266

Wong Howe’s camera work in Transatlantic (1931) would reveal in detail hisconcept of low-key lighting: in every scene Howe appointed a highlightingsource that served as the focus of attention, and the surrounding of thecharacters’ composition was gradually less visible until it became dark. Howe’sap p lication of this particular formula guided beholder to the center of the

Report of the Studio Lighting Committee, in: J. S. M. P. E., Vol. 30, No. 3 (March 1938), p. 295.267

Indictment Against ‘Soft Lighting’, in: International Projectionist, Vol. 1, No. 3 (December 1931), p. 20.268

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narrative action, and kept the spatial of the ship in equal narrative balance byhighlighting some dramatic sections of its interior. Howe’s lighting compositionseparated the space in the three tonal territories of foreground, middle groundand background.

Hollywood’s veteran cinematographer Tony Gaudio developed what he called“precision lighting” technique, i.e., ‘with the aide of the light-control features ofthe new spots’ Gaudio highlighted the center of attention more intensely than itssurrounding. When the subject moved or turned from one point to the next,already arranged spot lights, which were controlled by dimmers, would be lit ata required intensity highlighting the subject’s action. Thereupon what was notrequired from the previous position would be slowly dimmed down. Gaudio’sp recision lighting kept the beholder constantly following the narrative actionwith no interruption. Tony Gaudio narratively introduced this illumination267

technique in The Life of Emile Zola (1937) and Anthony Adverse (1936). In TheLife of Emile Zola, Gaudio kept the facial expression of Paul Muni in focus as heturned from one position in the set to another, and kept the rest of the set in lessintensity; thereafter the spots from the previous set-ups were dimmed down.

The editor of the International Projectionist found the metamorphosis from thecarbon arc’s “hard lighting” to Mazda’s “soft lighting” uninviting. The editorwas missing the arc’s highly contrasted monochrome image with its definedlines . Soft illumination brought, according to the editor, ‘the poorest qualityscreen images we have ever seen.’ Under such illumination the spatial details areindistinct, ‘it’s just a waste of time, because nobody can see the set anyhow.’268

Our editor certainly belongs to those hard-liners who opposed the change inHollywood’s practice after the introduction of sound. As connoted earlier, uponthe event of sound, incandescent tungsten and the improved Panchromatic filmbrought a new model of image stylization to the silver screen, with previouslyunknown characteristics, and marked the heyday of the Golden Age’sScenographic Space.

Gregg Toland’s mainly low-key illumination of Kidnapped (1938) was praisedby a critic of the American Cinematographer, as this mood of lighting reflected

Toland with 20th’s “Kidnapped” Awarded Camera Honors for May, in: A. C., Vol. 19, No. 7 (July 1938), p. 274.269

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the spirit of the screen story. Yet Toland did not hesitate in using illumination ofother types when he thought the action required it. Toland mastered his own269

unique composition of matching between the dramatic mood of the filmic storyand its illumination. Les Miserables (1935) could be seen as one of the finestmodels of 1930's low-key illumination. Toland’s application of this low lightingin the historical drama invoked the age spirit of Paris in 1865. Any other lightingquality would have detracted from Victor Hugo’s story and made it narrativelyless effective. Toland manifested another ascendancy of tonal treatment inWuthering Heights (1939), where low- and soft-key balanced between the moodof love, revenge, the horror of the action and its scenographic stylization.

John Arnold, Shooting the Movies, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937,1

p. 172.

C f. Ern s t Hans Gombrich, Truth and the Stereotype, in: Melvin Rader (Ed.), A Modern Book of Esthetics: An2

Anthology. New York: Holt Rinehart and Winston 1935 (1952, 1960, and 4 Ed. 1973), p. 41. th

S e e C a l v in Pryluck and Richard E. Snow, Toward a Psycholinguistics of Cinema, in: A. V. Communication Review,3

V o l . 15, No. 1 (Spring 1967), p. 61; the American short storyteller Edgar Allan Poe explained with regard to the digitali n f o r m a t i o n : ‘ if words derive any value from applicability-then ‘analysis’ conveys ‘algebra”; see Edgar Allan Poe, TheP u rl oined Letter, in: Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. New York: Doubleday 1938, p. 134; Michael G.J o h nson, The Distributional Aspects of Meaning Interaction in A-Grammatical Verbal Contexts. Ph. D. Diss., Baltimore,Maryland: Johns Hopkins University 1968.

James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 1 (1954), pp. 11&22;4

Gibson’s examination of the pictorial perception belongs to the most valuable studies related to the subject.

5 Scenographic Space-Beholder: The Interaction Discourse

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s cinematographer John Arnold once expressed: ‘“goingto the movies” is not merely a matter of watching a pictured story, but of feelingand living it with the characters.’ True, our perceivable experience relates to a1

p sy chological level achieved by the visualization of a profilmic event on thescreen. However, supposing that we watch an image projected for a briefdurat ion on the screen, we can only recollect it in our visual memory aftersomething of a befitting categorization. ‘The label given’ in this analysis, saidErnst Hans Gombrich, ‘ will influence the choice of a schema. If we happen tohit on a good description we will succeed best in the task of reconstruction.’ In2

a single instant of analogical information, the beholder is likely to be confrontedwit h a flood of constantly alternating visual properties. In that visual3

communication, any individual possesses the satisfactory qualifications tocompare any given object with its photographic representation, without the needof prior training in deciphering a photograph; as in motion picture production,when a model is placed under proper artistic control the outcome will match orequal the real event. When this is viewed under controlled conditions, thebeholder will be led to believe are that they witnessing or being involved in anactual occurrence. Unlike words or symbols, pictures, like models, are a far moreeffective means for learning and informing ourselves about the real world. 4

Dealing with the terms of perceptual organization reveals that the beholder’sexpectations are what command their behavior during the course of the visualp ercep t ion. Expectations also govern the action of locating the obscured

C a l v i n F . Nodine, Dennis P. Carmody, and Harold L. Kundel, Searching for Nina, in: John W. Senders, Dennis F.5

Fisher, and Richard A. Monty (Ed.), Eye Movements and the Higher Psychological Functions. Hillsdale, New Jersey:Lawrence Erlbaum 1978, p. 243.

Paul Rotha, The Film Till Now: A Survey of World Cinema. London: Jonathan Cape 1930 (Vision Press 1949, 1960,6

and 4 Ed., Spring Books 1967), P. 139.th

D . Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to7

1960, P. 7.

J e rome Lachenbruch, Interior Decoration for the “Movies”: Studies from the Work of Cedric Gibbons and Gilbert8

White, in: Arts & Decoration (January 1921), p. 205.

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messages in the envisioned images. These concealed meanings in the artistic5

p roduct are the artist’s assigned cryptogram, that contain the essence of theartist’s mission in the anticipated scene. American Moviegoers were filled withsuch high expectations when visiting the movie theaters, and knew what are theywere looking for in the screen image. This level of tutored public imposedchallenges on the American studios, who met that demand eagerly withexcellence; Hollywood realized the narrative quality of introducing the ‘realthing’ into its formation of the screen image. American film-makers were fullyaware of the public’s high expectations and critical viewing of their productions,and they admired it. The American beholder could discriminate a good lightingapplication of a scene from a bad one, a shabby and cheaply constructed settingfrom a well built one, an inferior gown from a charming one, or poor spatialrepresentation from skillfully operated camera work. Some film critics and6

theories have always attempted to classify the beholder’s interactive discoursewith the image imposed upon the screen. This pictorial communication claimsa basic viewing ability as having a ‘few skills of attention, memory,discrimination, inference-drawing, or hypothesis-testing’ and that prerequisitethe perceiver to handle these. ‘Classical films’ in this respect ‘call forth activitieson the part of the spectator. These activities may be highly standardized andcomparatively easy to learn, but we cannot assume that they are simple.’ 7

A set ting’s cues in a farcical filmic story will psychologically prepare thebeholder to see anything absurd taking place within the set the perception asacceptable. Regardless of how it may sound, this tale of balancing between the8

absurd and acceptable has always attracted the public to the screen. In westernsociety, logical thinking sometimes may not apply to every aspect of life as it issupposed to. This form of narrative is one of Hollywood’s screen attractions,

Jan Mukarovsky, Structure, Sign, and Function: Selected Essays by Jan Mukarovsky. Tr. and Ed. by John Burbank and9

Peter Steiner, New Haven: Yale University Press 1978, p. 182.

James J. Gibson, Pictures, Perspective, and Perception, in: Daedalus, Vol. 89 (Winter 1960), p. 220.10

See Ibid., p. 227.11

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which is well defined in the horror genre. When watching Frankenstein (1931),for instance, we are sitting on the edge of our seats accepting the recreation ofHenry Frankenstein of The Monster in the laboratory setting, in which everyaesthetic sign is pointing to hell but still provoking our curiosity and acceptanceof this illogical behavior, because the spatial attributes of the laboratory haveprepared us to be in a receptive mood. Seemingly, Dracula’s (1931) story andsetting enabled the beholder to attain a receptive attitude toward a centuries-oldvampire, who lives off the blood of humans, cannot withstand the light of theday, and lives in his grotesque castle (setting).

Bot h the scenographical organization and its representational treatment areequally valid means of calling the perceiver’s attention to the event beingpresented upon the screen. A camera shot, indicated Jan Mukarovsky, implies ap ot ence of narrative quality, since the camera views the object from variousangles. In this relationship, the shot introduces the effect of the close-up, whichgains its narrative paradigm by bringing a subject unusually close to itsbeholder. During the pictorial representation, a shot or camera angle is not9

arbitrarily taken by the cinematographer. The camera setup, as we have seenpreviously (Chapter 4), is the practical implementation of pervious planning andstudy, so as to capture the most narrative point-of-view of a scenic composition.‘The artist’ as defined by the experimental psychologist James J. Gibson, ‘is aperceiver who pays special attention to the points of view from which the worldcan be seen, and one who catches and records for the rest of us the mostrevealing perspectives on things.’ By doing that, the artist is appointed a noble10

assignment. ‘What the artist can do is not to create a new kind of vision, but toeducate our attention.’11

By contrast to the camera’s recording of images, which seems to have thetendency of being two-dimensional, our eyes have the ability to perceive thespatial depth and record it as three-dimensional space. Overcoming depth cuelimitations imposed by the camera ever-challenged the film Scenographers. Atthe hands of these artists “optischen Manipulationen” became a reliable artistic

C f. D o nald Albrecht, Designing Dreams: Modern Architecture in the Movies. New York: Harper & Row 1986 (Aus1 2

d . Engl. Ubers. u. hrsg. von Ralph Eue, Architektur im Film: die Moderne als Grosse Illusion. Basel: Birkhauser 1989),pp. 15&16.

H ans Dreier, Designing the Sets, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937,1 3

p. 84.

See Carol Barnes Hochberg and Julian Hochberg, Familiar Size and the Perception of Depth, in: The Journal of14

Psychology, Vol. 34 (1952), pp. 107-114.

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means in making the camera eye induce the impression of spatial depth. ‘Dereinfachste ist die Aufstellung von Mauern, Zwischenwanden oder anderengrossen Objecten im Vordergrund des Bildes. Diese Elemente funktionieren wieRahmen und erhohen den Eindruck von Distanz zwischen Vorder-undHintergrund.’ Equally important is the introduction of the forced perspectiveprinciple to invoke the impression of extended space in depth. Among the film12

Scenographer’s cues of optischen Manipulationen is the reduction of certainparts of the setting in the back (background miniature), because at that range thebeholder cannot be aware of any particular abbreviation in the setting scale, andthis will produce the illusion of spatial depth. Yet placing a foreground miniaturein front of the camera is another artistic means of providing the impression ofdep t h, and is introduced by building the lower part of the setting in actualdimensions for the action, while the upper part is abbreviated and placed in frontof the camera’s objective. 13

Our familiarity with objects’ sizes belongs to our background experience withsuch objects. This permits us an easy appreciation of the “cues” of depth, and thet echnique of spatial representation on flat surfaces, i.e., when we see acharacterization of familiar objects on a two-dimensional surface, ourclass ification of these will be based on our “knowledge” of their sizes. As14

perceivers of the world surrounding us, we acquire our familiarity with objectsfrom t he real space we are moving in, and this allows us to make certainjudgements regarding the juxtaposition or counter position of a given spatialorganization we see on the screen. Placing a large piece of furniture in the frontand smaller one in the background of the set, or dividing the Scenographic Spacein sections by either a piece of furniture, character composition, alcove, three-points lighting, or by means of imposing arches or forced perspective, will guideour reading of the scene in depth because we know the relative sizes of theseobjects. Hollywood Scenographers and cinematographers admirably governedt he t echnique of realistic spatial representation and translated it in terms of

James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 1 (1954), pp. 4&6; Julian1 5

Hochberg, Perception: Toward the Recovery of a Definition, in: P. R., Vol. 63, No. 6 (1956), pp. 400-404.

Julian Hochberg, Perception. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall 1968 (2 Ed. 1978), Chapter Two; having1 6 nd

s o me p a rt i cular likings, both the perceptual and internal processes relate to one another. The perceptual interpretation isa c t i v a t ed when the perceiver starts observing a visual stimuli, while the internal organization signifies a mental analoguere s u l t ing from the communication with an external cause; see Roger N. Shepard and Sherryl A. Judd, Perceptual Illusionof Rotation of Three-Dimensional Objects, in: Science, Vol. 191 (5 March 1976), pp. 952-954.

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persuasive images on the two-dimensional screen. They honed their skills afterhaving acquired a certain level of knowledge and experience with every aestheticsign they projected in their settings and images. William Cameron Menzies, likeAnt on Grot, Cedric Gibbons, Hans Dreier, Richard Day or Charles D. Hall,among others, were all fully aware of these canons of reading the space in depthon the screen. We in turn, as beholders, form our hypothesis and classificationsof the spatial attributes, since we are armed with our past experience that allowsus the discrimination of the spatial stylization. One might learn an idea first-hand by having direct contact with that idea, orsecond-hand by being made aware of an occurrence. This communicationalprocess is called perception. In this vein, an image or model are both means ofcreating a second-hand experience. By definition, however, ‘perception’ outlinedJames J. Gibson, ‘is a form of organic response, but this kind of responseprobably has the primary function of identifying or discriminating features of theenvironment; it is implicit rather than overt and it does not in any reliable waytell us what the individual will do.’ It is false correlation to say that the15

perceptual process is a mere recording of reality, through the eye, of the visibleworld in the mind, then analyzing those upside-down images on the sensoryp roject ion areas or on the retinas, commented Julian Hochberg. There is nocopying of objects in the brain, related Hochberg, but some distinctive neuralp rocesses are assigned by the nervous system and activated by the physicalenergies, which mobilizes our sensory organs. By continuation, many theories16

have been written about the perceptual interpretation and the interaction betweenus, as perceiver, and our visual surroundings. ‘The concept of perceptual theoryas a ratiomorphic model of functional achievement and of its strategy-that is,’related the psychologist Egon Brunswik, ‘as a model of focusing and of vicariousmediation- as well as the attendant methodological postulate of behavior-

See Egon Brunswik, Perception and the Representative Design of Psychological Experiments. Berkeley and Los1 7

Angeles: University of California Press 1947 (2 Ed. 1956), p. 143.nd

The French Impressionist film kept the characters as sufficiently aware of their characterization as possible in front18

o f t h e c a me ra.The Impressionists’ narrative principles manipulated the temporal aspect and filmed the characters’t h o u g h t s . . F l ashing back or forth in time is common practice in this form. Impressionist film-makers experimented withl e n s e s, masks, filters, superimpositions or dizzy mobile camera to reflect a character’s state of mind; David Bordwell,Kristin Thompson, Film Art: An Introduction. Reading, Massachusetts: Addison-Wesley 1979, pp. 301-304.

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research isomorphism.’ By rephrasing , we have not covered the extent of17

perceptual organization, but no one has yet attempted such a sweeping theoryilluminating perceptual organization. For more than a century, perceptualorganization has kept psychologists busy defining and interpreting thisfundamental process of human communication with their environment. This isnot a pure psychological study, and covering the perceptual theory as a whole isbeyond the aim of this investigation. We are attempting here only to touch themain stream of the perceptual experience during the course of pictorialcommunication.

In its narrative, Hollywood treated psychological motives with distinctive care.St ill, under the influence of French Impressionist film, Hollywood’s practicefocused considerable attention on a form of psychological narrative associatedwith subjective camera representation and cutting. This Impressionisticaccent uat ion was co-opted into the film noir as well as the horror film.18

Hollywood was influenced also by the Germanic Expressionist school of thesilent era. Josef Von Sternberg, who mastered this film form beforehand inGermany in The Blue Angel (1930) through his illustration of the psychologicalstruggle of professor Unrath (Emil Jannings), repeated the form in his historicaldrama The Scarlet Empress (1934), with the same Expressionistic touch, but thistime in the form of setting of the Muscovian court. Joseph H. August’s subjectivecinematography and John Ford’s psychological interpretation of the character’sstate of mind in the drama The Informer (1935), paralleled the Germanic accentthrough its concentration on the hero’s inner conflict during the Irish Revolution.Joseph H. August employed subjective camera techniques and John Ford stagedhis action within foggy settings on the streets of Dublin at night, in the church orp olice office to show Gypo Nolan’s (Victor McLaglen) psyche, and that ofIreland in 1922. Anton Grot’s spatial interpretation in Svengali (1931)manifested this internal narrative. His spatial externalization of the dramamirrored the characters’ subjective behavior, which corresponded to GermanExpressionism. Grot applied a distorted perspective to the setting’s walls, and

James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 1 (1954), p. 22.19

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int roduced tilted floors, out-of-shape objects, and equally deformed spatialcomposition and its lighting. In addition to the Expressionistic influence on thedrama, its effect reached other forms of American film-making, such as thehorror film. This model of psychological narrative controlled the externalizationof the Scenographic space and placed its composition, form and lighting undernot eworthy artificial control. Frankenstein (1931), Doctor X (1932), or TheBlack Cat (1934) are some highlights of this filmic narrative.

In the modern world, we are living in an environment of increased second-handexperience, and as humans we need first hand experiences. This explains whyhigh realism in pictorial communication became a great attraction to thebeholder. In other words, because this form of visual perception is the nearestneighbor to available first hand experience. We cannot expect a completeinteraction between a perceiver and an object, where the perceiver is given fewcorresponding or distinctive landmarks relating to that object. ‘The danger of lowfidelit y is vagueness or nonspecificity. When the artist either omits somedimensions of fidelity or departs from fidelity by distorting form, he takes therisk, but he may achieve a picture which clarifies and specifies instead.’19

Comp lying with the belief that everything that looks different is easilydis tinguishable may explain the motives resting behind the unrealisticap p lication of Hollywood’s scenography . Expressionism in the spatialconfiguration was validated by some American film Scenographers, to the levelof being classed as landmark deliberation in the filmic narrative. WilliamCameron Menzies, Charles D. Hall and Anton Grot delivered this attention-capturing spatial organization by deforming objects and settings. Again this lowfidelity or deformation of the scenographic form was manifested remarkably inthe horror cycle: Bulldog Drummond (1929), Dracula (1931), Mystery of theWax Museum (1933), or The Black Cat (1934) to name but few. Menzies’intentional low fidelity introduced dramatic gravities in his settings for BulldogDrummond invoked the psychological state of the Coney Island crazy house’soccupants. He composed incorrect vanishing points, slanted floors, windows withwrong angles, and he displaced and exaggerated shadows. Menzies, like Grot,achieved this clarification and specification after borrowing from GermanExpressionist scenography. In Doctor X, Grot maintained the same psychologicalnarrative through low fidelity and by manipulating the objects’ originality:slanted floors, wrong vanishing points, twisted walls and staircases, all point to

According to Freudian theory: the strange death is hidden inside of every mankind, psychologically we all are afraid2 0

of the inescapable and the unknown after our departure from this life; See Drake Douglas, Horror! Woodstock, NewYork: The Overlook Press 1989, p. 27.

H e rtha Kopfermann, Psychologische Untersuchungen uber die Wirkung zweidimensionaler Darstellungen korperlicher2 1

Gebilde, in; Psychologische Forschung, Vol. 13, Berlin: Springer Verlag 1930, p. 296, fn. 1.

Cf. Julian Hochberg, The Representation of Things and People, in: Maurice Mandelbabum (Ed.), Art, Perception, and2 2

Reality. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press 1972, pp. 54&55.

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t he p sychological state of the horror story of strange “Moon Murders” andcannibalism that occur under the full moon.

During our communicational experience with a horror story on the screen, we arelikely to oscillate between the fascination of the horror and the freakishness thattouches our psyche. Even if the picture seems thrilling, we continue to like it insome way or another; the illusory and mostly violent faculty of the horror fableequips us with a psychological immunity and a favor for antagonism that wemust control within ourselves. When Dracula and his conquest over deathcaptures our attention, it is not because of Dracula’s victory over the inescapable,but because of the ultimate triumph of our imagination. Mysteries of the horror20

genre, like the tales of Dracula (1931), The Mummy (1932), Bride ofFrankenstein (1935), or Son of Frankenstein (1939) challenge the psychologicalstate of the beholder to the extreme. This form of psychological narrative becameparadigmatic only after it was balanced with the spatial externalization of thehorror.

When dealing with ‘verschiedenen Erscheinungsweisen eines Gegenstandes’these do not have the same visual efficiency, while organized in the space. Someof these objects will have a further-reaching narrative quality than others becauseof t heir claim to some distinctive attributes that are “sprechende”,“characteristische”, and “typische.” Seeking a well planned spatial compositionmeans it should undergo slight alteration and not blindly resemble the real. Suchobjects’ composition ‘muss mit Hinsicht auf “ihre Verstandlichkeit alsRaumobjekt” angelegt werden.’ Julian Hochberg’s empirical suggestion21

indicates that the theory of viewing an image from various points-of-viewwithout any perceptual distortion does not hold any practical evidence, becauseby viewing an image from a wrong angle, the scene would no longer provide thesame lighting characteristic to the eye as that of the original. A perceiver22

viewing the Scenographic Space or the screen image from the balcony in the

See James J. Gibson, Pictures, Perspective, and Perception, in: Daedalus, Vol. 89 (Winter 1960), pp. 216-227. 23

John Alton, Painting with Light. New York: The Macmillan 1949, p. 56.24

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movie theater will experience some visual distortion of the setting and screencomp osition, different from one perceiving the scene from the seat on theext reme right, the very left, the very front of the screen, or from the properstationpoint of the movie house, the point at which the camera objective wasdirected while recording the scene. Without light we would not be able toperceive a scene, read it, or communicate with the visual world. Light deliversinformation to the eye. The search for representing the illusion of reality wasult imat ely rewarded by the origination of the moving picture. This mediumsecured its unique place of realistic representation not only by representing thespatial, but the temporal factor as well. ‘The light surrounding a living person isa continuous flow of transformations and changes which specify the sequence ofevents in the neighborhood. This is what the cinematography succeeds to someext ent in representing.’ Light can be perceived as an aspiration or hope. A23

person seated in gloomy darkness will feel relieved when seeing a trace of light.A source of light in the motion picture is a profound dramatic means. Thedramatic value of a filmic scene will be elevated either by the turning on of alamp or a light source, by the sudden emergence of a light, or by a characterent ering the scene while carrying a light. The only possible way to read a24

spatial organization and its characteristics is if the spatial acquires an adequateillumination level. Here, a constant flow of changes of the tonal values wouldsurround every moving object in the scene, and make it distinct in itsenvironment. By casting shadows over the mise-en-scenes, the light effect mayaesthetically deform them while reaching them from one angle or another, or itmay lend them a realistic fidelity. In the absence of light, there would be nomotion picture. Our receptive system depends on its operation on the tonal valuesof light of the visible world in which we are moving. This validates light as beingan indispensable aide for perceiving our environment and supplying ourreceptive system with the fundamentals with which it needs to operate. We allknow the association of the name Allah with light, and that this raises light tomean infinity and peace.

From a psychological point-of-view, color in the motion picture relates to thepsyche and subconscious of its perceiver rather than to the intellect. Lines of acomposition may give the impression of masculinity, while color invokes

L. Giannetti, Understanding Movies, pp. 25&26.25

A. W. Vandermeer, Color vs. Black and White in Instructional Films, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 2 (1954),26

pp. 121-134.

See Percy H. Tannenbaum, The Indexing Process in Communication, in: Public Opinion Quarterly, Vol. 19 (Fall27

1 9 5 5 ), p . 293; Hochberg and Brooks examined three measures of attention of pictorial stimuli in which separate imagesreceived dissimilar concentration of interest; Julian Hochberg and Virginia Brooks, The Prediction of Visual Attentiont o D e signs and Paintings, in: The American Psychologist, Vol. 17, No. 437 (1962), pp. 368-369; Julian Hochberg andVirginia Brooks, A Psychological Study of “Cuteness”, in: Perceptual and Motor Skills, Vol. 11 (June 3, 1960), p. 205.

C a l v i n Pryluck, Structural Analysis of Motion Pictures as a Symbol System, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol.2 8

16, No. 4 (Winter 1968), p. 381.

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femininity and suggests mood. Lines and color each have their own expressionand dramatic indications. Psychologists attempted studying the effects of25

viewing monochrome compared with a colored film. One of these psychologicalinvestigations supported the fact that a beholder seeing a subject in a black andwhite film, would learn an equal amount from that picture as when they viewedit in color. The exception to this relates to memory retention over the course oft ime: the perceiver of the colored film would forget less data concerning thesubject matter than the one viewing it in black and white. An image formed of26

a series of gray will challenge our imagination to continue guessing what mightbe missing in the image, which will keep the monochrome image safeguardedfrom eventual criticism which would always favor the colored scene.

When communicating with a visual scene, our communication with it isselective. We pay particular attention to those cues that concern us. If one or aset of signs enhances our attention more than other signs during our reading ofa scene’s message, it means that those cues elevated the perceptual efficiency ofthe image’s message and made it more effective. Whether a well thought-out27

scenographical composition, lighting effect, or well-studied camera angle, theyall contribute to the narrative credibility of the screen image and its message-therefore they are cues sustaining our attention during the communicationalp rocess; regardless of what our surrounding might be, it will confront ourperceptual machinery with a colossal amount of attributes or information, andt his interactive communication operates constantly in a highly selectivemanner. During the operation of the perceptual organization, the latter strives28

toward the abbreviation of the redundant data obtained from the visual stimuli.When encoding the perceived information, the beholder’s interpretation orencoding will be far more simplified compared to the incoming form they were

See Fred Attneave, Some Informational Aspects of Visual Perception, in: P. R., Vol. 61, No. 3 (1954), pp. 189&191.2 9

Ernst Hans Gombrich, The Sense of Order: A Study in the Psychology of Decorative Art. Ithaca, New York: Cornell3 0

University Press 1979, p. 105.

J u lian Hochberg and Virginia Brooks, Film Cutting and Visual Momentum, in: John W. Senders, Dennis F. Fisher,3 1

a n d R i c h a rd A. Monty (Ed.), Eye Movements and the Higher Psychological Functions. Hillsdale, New Jersey: LawrenceErl b a u m 1978, pp. 294&295; motion picture’s continuity cutting and organizing images sequentially disclosed thats e q uential eye glances unite together without the act of assistance from the optical proprioception and the efferent vesselsw h ich have their impact on the perceptual process; see Julian Hochberg & Virginia Brooks, The Integration of SuccessiveCinematic Views of Simple Scenes, in: Bulletin of the Psychonomic Society, Vol. 4 (1974), p. 263.

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recorded in on the receptors. A simplified encoding form of perceptual data willop erat e ‘only if the amount of information required to describe thet ransformation is less than the amount of information saved by virtue of thetransformation;’ being selective during the communicational process with our29

environment is not a matter of choice, we have to be selective, insistedGombrich, otherwise we would be overwhelmed by data to the degree ofconfusion. Our perceptuo-motor capacity has it limits during its operation. We30

cannot record the visual world as it is, neither we can memorize a pictorialstream such as the camera apparatus does; alternatively we are more likely torecall the highlighted events of our pictorial experience that relate closely to oursolicitude.

After the beholder’s expectations are satisfied while viewing a filmic scene, thebeholder has no further motivation to search the scene. By then, the image retiresinto being “cinematographically dead.” To the film-maker, this is a challenge thathe can meet by changing to a new camera position, ‘even when there is no needto do so in order to tell the story [my italic].’ Shifting the camera from one set-upto the next is used merely to refresh the beholder’s attention of an otherwisemonotonous and tiresome set-up. These variations of the ‘visual momentum’(camera angles or cutting) are what keep the screen story “alive.” Fresh, short,and non-redundant views deliver new data that keeps the beholder’s attention inconstant response to the presentation. The addition of sound to the screen image31

extended Hollywood’s shot length from five to seven seconds during the silentperiod, to 9-10 seconds of the talking image. This stretching of the shot’s timeor visual momentum explains that the new scene obtained additional aestheticsigns and data, which needed more time to be properly digested by the perceiver.

By the mid 1940's, Hollywood introduced the method of analysis of responses,

For more about Hollywood’s analysis of response see Bernard D. Cirlin and Jack N. Peterman, Pre-Testing a Motion3 2

Picture: A Case History, in: The Journal of Social Issues, Vol. 3, No. 3 (Summer 1947), pp. 39-41.

See Luelyne Doscher, The Significance of Audience Measurement in Motion Pictures, in: The Journal of Social33

Issues,. Vol. 3, No. 3 (Summer 1947), pp. 51-57.

Movies: End of an Era? in: Fortune, Vol. 39, No. 4 (April 1949), p. 148.34

S. Syrjala, Scenery is for Seeing, in: Orville K. Larson (Ed.), Scene Design for Stage and Screen. East Lansing,35

Michigan: Michigan State University Press 1961, pp. 235-36&238.

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in order to foresee the public’s reaction to some high budget pictures’p reliminary cuttings. The test was implemented by selecting two-hundredindividuals from a cross-section of society, to view a preliminary cutting versionand report their impressions; thereupon the studios would put their films togetherin accordance with the audience reaction. Hollywood devised elaborate32

techniques of measurements for testing the beholder’s expectation of the motionpicture industry, and received public appraisal eagerly as means of anticipatingbox-office revenues. ‘Audience measurement acts in this way as a sort ofinsurance against box-office failure.’ In an article of the late Nineteen-Forties,33

Fortune’s editor praised the role of the public, who constitute the market andmake a picture successful. The editor called for acknowledging the role of theaudience and providing them with the pictures they really want to see. 34

5.1 The Illusional Filmic Space

Doubtlessly, the narrative quality of the screen image depends profoundly on itspictorial organization. Keeping the beholder actively watching the screen storydemands an inventive pictorial configuration to be delivered to the pristinescreen surface. This invention includes imposing the impression of the spatialdep th cue on the flat screen, which gives the beholder the feeling of beinginvolved within the scenic narrative. Shadowgraphs and shallow artistic thoughtswould not capture the beholder’s attention for some time or repeatedly on thescreen. The notion of introducing the impression of a depth cue into the motion35

p icture might be achieved by the adaption of various and certain techniques,which relate directly to a fundamental and realistic perceptual factor: whenp erceiving a filmic story, the beholder uses the same psychological andphysiological machinery used for grasping the real world, and much of the virtual

Charles H. Harpole, Ideological and Technological Determinism in Deep-Space Cinema Images: Issues in Ideology,36

Technological History, and Aesthetics, in: Film Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. (Spring 1980), p. 14.

See Claude Bailble, Programming the Look: A New Approach to Teaching Film Technique, in: Screen Education, Vol.37

32, No. 33 (Autumn/Winter 1979/80), p. 113.

‘F i l m “realism,” defined George Amberg, ‘does not refer to reality as either actuality or verifiable fact, or even as an3 8

i ma g i n a t i v e transformation of actuality, but as a metaphor for wishful thinking.’ See George Amberg, The Ambivalenceo f R e a lism: Fragment of an Essay, in: George Amberg (Ed.), The Art of Cinema: Selected Essays. New York: Arno Press& The New York Times 1972, pp. 150-153.

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practice of perception is utilized in the cognition of the motion picture. The36

concept of convergence serves as a means of spatial reduction, to the extent thatit prepares the space to be grasped by the beholder at ease. When viewing a film,we have the desire to see and still be unseen. In an unconditional way, we wantto ally our eye with the role of the camera objective. The camera eye deservesour recognition, since it circulates the space capturing it from every possiblenarrative angle. During this course of representation, the camera objective ‘hasthe powerful asset of perspective centered upon an ‘objective’ principal point. Byident ifying with it, we become all-knowing voyeurs, while at the same timebeing helplessly exposed -as in dream- to all the images that present themselves.’Semiologists named this pictorial experience ‘the narrative instance;’ but ClaudeBailble was more elaborate in calling it ‘the desire to sleep, to dream, absoluteidleness, an orgy of affect.’ By oscillating the beholder between experiencing37

reality and spectacle, the motion picture carries an exciting clarification to thebeholder’s ambivalent approach toward indirect satisfaction. While the38

beholder is experiencing filmic communication in the darkened movie theater,the spatial depth cue, or close-up shot on the screen invites the beholder to becloser to the action as the second or third party accompanying thecharacterization, and still go unnoticed by the Scenographic Space’s occupants.In its narrative representation of the baths, boudoirs, offices or kitchen settings,Hollywood relied heavily on including the beholder within the action. Americanfilm-makers counted on the “daydream formula” of open spatial conception, andon “the eye-witness principle” of the office set as if the beholder was includedin the screen narrative and the characters’ most intimate moments of life.

By the addition of dialogue into the moving image, a new psychological factormerged into the pictorial communication. Supposing the story-telling relied moreon the spoken lines, it would require a high degree of attention on the side of thebeholder to understand the action. With this, patrons had to strive for grasping

W e s l e y C. Miller, The Illusion of Reality in Sound Pictures, in: Lester Cowan (Ed.), Recording Sound for Motion3 9

Pictures. New York and London: McGraw-Hill Book 1931, p. 211.

S e e Donald M. Oenslager, The Theatre of Donald Oenslager. Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press4 0

1978, p. 10.

Hortense Powdermaker, Hollywood the Dream Factory: An Anthropologist Looks at the Movie-Makers. Boston: Little,41

Brown 1950, p. 14.

James J. Gibson, Pictures, Perspective, and Perception, in: Daedalus, Vol. 89 (Winter 1960), p. 216. 42

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the spoken words. A critic perceived this form of entertainment, by then, as‘oft en not relished by an audience’ who desired more relaxed methods ofentertainment. On the other side, a large section of moviegoers are unlike thosewho visit a stage play or attend a musical comedy - they want to go the moviehouse to see and understand as much as they can from the screen story. The39

American stage Scenographer Donald M. Oenslager saw a conclusive parallelismbet ween the concept of the opera’s spatial configuration and its sound. Theconnection between these two forms should be made clear to the perceiver, i.e.,the sound heard should match with visual accentuation on the stage. The same40

concept of balance between the sound heard and the characters’ surroundingapplies to the motion picture, and anything beyond this audio-visual balance willbe elusive. As I suggested in previous Chapters, the drawing of the beholder’sat tention to the setting and the narrative action within should be linked tosomet hing related to the real world, in order to inspire the beholder inovercoming some their everyday annoyances; if we have a realistic perceptionof the screen characters and their surroundings, then we expect their relationshipst o be realistic as well. This level of screen realism, noted the anthropologistHortense Powdermaker, is what lends the pictorial communication its narrativequality. The beholder visits the movie with conscious and unconsciousexp ect ations and a curiosity that demands satisfaction from the screen’snarrative.41

James J. Gibson defined two questions governing pictorial communication: howclosely can an image correspond to the real world, and what level of impact canit have upon its beholder ? On these two qualitative means rests the foundation42

of pictorial communication. The effect of moving pictures on the mental orderof the beholder is of our chief concern in this Chapter, as I already sketched outin the preceding Chapters the correlationship between Hollywood’s spatial codeand the age spirit during the nineteen-thirties. Our attitude in front of the screen

Gerald Mast, A Short History of the Movies. Indianapolis: Pegasus 1971, pp. 18&19.43

R. L. Gregory, The Intelligent eye. New York: McGraw-Hill Book 1970, p. 86.44

J u l i a n Hochberg, Perception: (I) Color and Shape, in: J. W. Kling and Lorrin A. Riggs (Ed.), Woodworth &4 5

S c h l o sberg’s Experimental Psychology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1938 (1954, and 3 Ed. 1971), p. 395.rd

Cf. James J. Gibson, What is a Form? in: P. R., Vol. 58 (1951), p. 408.46

S e e Julian Hochberg, Perception: (II) Space and Movement, in: J. W. Kling and Lorrin A. Riggs (Ed.), Woodworth4 7

& Schlosberg’s Experimental Psychology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1938 (1954, and 3 Ed. 1971), p. 476.rd

284

is related to a highly complicated psychological structure that we are attempting,here, to comprehend. When experiencing a filmic communication, we have theassumption of watching a continuous stream of images on the screen. But, whatwe are actually viewing are strips of discontinuous images. We see a certainnumber of images on the screen per second (sixteen, twenty-four or more), andbecause each of these images relates to its neighbor, a mental process affiliatesthem to one another and makes sense out of the whole. This illusion of continuityis identified as the persistence of vision. In this relationship, the perceptual43

process is capable of organizing the scattered information of the visible world,and of making sense out of these perceptual stimuli.44

Our perceptual communication with our surrounding is governed by our organsof sense, in which the eye plays the most significant role. The visual perceptionof the outside world is recorded on the retina which consists of a ‘sensitive tissueat the rear of the eye.’ Furthermore, the retinal image is a flat surface,45

ostensibly, upon which a ‘pattern-stimulus’, or a ‘retinal form’ is recorded tobegin the perceptual process. If this is so, what is then the essence of that retinalform or image ? Closer focusing upon this question leads to the fact that theretinal image is not a picture, since there is no perceiver stationed behind the eyeto look at it. The retinal image thus, ruled James J. Gibson ‘is in fact not a format all. It is a complex of variables of light-energy, definable in terms of steps andgradient s but not in terms of physical edges, geometrical lines, or graphicoutline.’ Upon the retinal image, however, depends the communication between46

the visible world and our nervous system. 47

A great deal of similarities associate the operation of the naked eye with themechanism of the camera. During the visual perception of an image, the sheaf of

James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 1 (1954), pp. 3-23.48

J u l i a n Hochberg, Perception: (I) Color and Shape, in: J. W. Kling and Lorrin A. Riggs (Ed.), Woodworth &4 9

S c h l o sberg’s Experimental Psychology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1938 (1954, and 3 Ed. 1971), p. 396.rd

Percy H. Tannenbaum and James A. Fosdick, The Effect of Lighting Angle on the Judgment of Photographed Subjects,50

in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 8, No. 6 (1960), pp. 253-262.

S e e Julian Hochberg, Perception: (II) Space and Movement, in: J. W. Kling and Lorrin A. Riggs (Ed.), Woodworth5 1

& Schlosberg’s Experimental Psychology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1938 (1954, and 3 Ed. 1971), pp. 494-rd

502.

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light-rays reaching the perceiver’s eye, may equal the sheaf of light-rays thatpenetrated the camera lens at the time the image was recorded. When the eye48

observes an image from various points-of-views and distances, the retinalimage’s size and form alternate accordingly, while the actual object is notundergoing any changes. A colored image’s tonal values will be modified if theimage’s illumination is changed. In their spatial relationship, objects’ tonalvalues, outlooks, or sizes can be affected in various ways. Much of this relates49

to the illumination quality of the subject. The object’s aesthetic efficiency in thespace depends upon the mood set by its illumination. The lighting quality mayinduce t he impression of cheeriness or horror. During the pictorialcommunication, the light level, diffusion and angle of it reaching an object willdefine its attributes and artistic quality. Hollywood defined a certain level ofillumination, as we have seen in Chapter 4, for each genre. Even each studioformed its own level of lighting wattage on its sets’ floors, in compliance withthe studio’s own identity or style. In pictorial communication, photographersinfluence our reading and perception of their images by the artistic grammarsthey introduce into their products. The lighting angle, for instance, under whicha subject is photographed, is one cue among others influencing the meaning oft he image and the way we encode it. Lighting angles vary in their visualefficiency, i.e., one may exceed or differ from another. In their experimentalinvestigation, Percy H. Tannenbaum and James A. Fosdick found that a fortyfive-degree lighting angle produced a more favorable and invariably morepronounced impression than a low-angle, eye-level or high-angle lightingeffect.50

P ictorial cues such as dimensions, shades, aerial and linear perspective,interposition or covering, in addition to the gradients, will mostly mediate theimpression of a depth cue and spaciousness in the visual image. Because of51

James J. Gibson, Pictures, Perspective, and Perception, in: Daedalus, Vol. 89 (Winter 1960), p. 223.52

In addition to the pictorial form, Gibson defined a solid object form, and abstract form; see James Gibson, What is5 3

a F o rm? i n : P. R., Vol. 58 (1951), pp. 403-412; Other psychologists observed in the form a ‘somewhat vague set ofp ro p e rt i e s which are invariant under transformations of color and brightness, size, place, and orientation;’ see FredA t t n e a v e a n d Malcolm D. Arnoult, The Quantitative Study of Shape and Pattern Perception, in: Psychological Bulletin,Vol. 53, No. 6 (1956), p. 463.

Julian E. Hochberg, Effects of the Gestalt Revolution: The Cornell Symposium on Perception, in: P. R., Vol. 64, No.5 4

2 (March 1957), p. 80.

286

these, our eye is very sensitive to the linear perspective we see. Psychologistshave found that the reason for this perceptual phenomenon mostly relates to ourfamiliarity with the rectilinear outlines and straight edges of our surroundings.Our living space is primarily organized from those lines, which explains thevisual efficiency of the linear perspective of which we are in favor. After the52

solid scenographical stylization of a linear perspective or any other form ofsetting is represented by the camera on the screen’s flat surface, it will betransformed into an image. Psychologists refer to this image as a “pictorialform.” This refers to any representation of a solid body on a flat surface,including the motion picture’s representation of the spatial attributes anddelivering of them to the flat screen. 53

We have the impression of “depth” only if the “cues” of such depth exist in theimage we see. This pertains specifically to the perception of depth in the motion54

p ict ures. When a character moves in the Scenographic Space surrounded byobjects of variant shapes and sizes, the character’s mobility will give ussomething of an approximate clue regarding some of the distances of the spatial:after a character enters the room, takes his hat off, walks to a mirror then goes tos it at t he desk, we have by then obtained a relative notion as to the spatialdimensions in which our hero is living. This contained movement within such aspatial reflects different dimensions from where another character is taking thegondola and sailing in a canal across the set. Our perceptual interpretation andreading of a scenic depth and its retrogressive arrangement (foreground-background and other objects projected in between), is based on our learning andexperience from the past with similar matters. This would allow us to conduct alegitimate analysis ‘from certain of the visual sensations and impressions whichwe perceive.’ From an analytical point-of-view, our visual perception of a scenicdepth relates to the “Objective Depth Factors,” i.e., we receive the illusion of a

F o r further analysis on “Objective Depth Factors” and “Subjective Depth Factors” see; A. Ames, Jr., The Illusion of5 5

D e p t h from Single Pictures, in: Journal of the Optical Society of America and Review of Scientific Instruments, Vol. 10,No. 2 (February 1925), pp. 137-148.

Ernst Hans Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York: Bollingen5 6

Foundation 1960 (2 Ed., New York: Kingsport Press 1961), p. 178.nd

See Ibid., p. 250.57

Jan Mukarovsky, Structure, Sign, and Function: Selected Essays by Jan Mukarovsky. Tr. and Ed. by John Burbank5 8

and Peter Steiner, New Haven: Yale University Press 1978, p. 181.

287

depth cue’s rendition of the spatial properties from the retinal image, and ourgaining of the sense of a depth cue is due to the “Subjective Depth Factors” thatwe experience during our observation of those subjects. Our classification of55

the scene we see may not have any validation, without drawing some standardsof comparison, reflects Ernst Hans Gombrich. This supports the fact that our56

past experience with similar matters is profoundly decisive in helping us to formour judgments and categorization regarding the scene with which we arecommunicating.

Persp ective, extended Gombrich, is a lawful artistic principle formed fororiginat ing images that invite illusion. No other art succeeded in creating a57

mental space like the film medium did. Producing a kinetic depth or scenic spaceon t he flat screen relates to the essential cues of a narrative paradigm of themotion pictures. In addition to the direction of gesture, as a means of renderinga screen space, i.e., reversing the perspective by a motion coming out from thescreen toward the perceiver, Jan Mukarovsky nominated other possibilities thatmay sustain the illusion of pictorial space for the beholder during the pictorialcommunication- either by changing the axis of vision of the scene and viewingit from some steep angles (low or high), or by introducing a tracking shot thatgives t he impression of penetrating the space, and granting the beholder theassumption of moving into the screen space. Andre Bazin expressed his deep58

appreciation for the production of the impression of a depth cue on the screen.For Bazin, the novelty of filming in depth is not only more economical andsimpler but more narrative, in providing the beholder with the maximum amountof narrative data possible from the scene, and by doing so, sustaining thepictorial communication. Shooting in depth, continued Bazin, relates closely tothe filmic language: it benefits the perceiver’s perceptual attitude while encoding

Andre Bazin, Qu-est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 ( Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What is Cinema?59

Vol. 1, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1967), pp. 35&36.

6 0 S e e Julian Hochberg, Art and Perception, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.), Handbook ofPerception: Perceptual Ecology. Vol. X, New York: Academic Press 1978, p. 233.

R udolf Arnheim, Art and the Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley and Los Angeles:6 1

University of California Press 1954 (2 Ed., 1974), p. 288.nd

Harold Schlosberg, Stereoscopic Depth from Single Pictures, in: The American Journal of Psychology, Vol. 54 (1941),62

pp. 601-202.

288

the screen image, and therefore enhances the perception of the screen story. No59

matter what the concept of creating the illusion of spatial depth on the screenmight be, unless the perceiver is equipped with prior contact or basic pastexp erience with related depth cues, there will be no adequate pictorialcommunication (beholder-image). Julian Hochberg supported this theory oft act ual-motor experiences which aid the perceiver in having the compellingmental structure. For Hochberg ‘all depth cues are symbols, and what makeseach effective is its prior association with other depth cues, and with themovements and touching that the history of the viewer has furnished.’ It is60

clear, however, that this internal process of producing spatial illusion on a flatsurface has a lot to do with the beholder’s own mental organization. In thisrelat ionship, some investigators have confirmed how highly the beholder’smental attitude may affect the level of the spatial depth we see. 61

In a well-organized snapshot featuring a figure against its surroundings, a cleardis t inction will be made between the foreground, middle-foreground and thebackground of the shot. It will induce the impression of the three-dimensionalityof the objects recorded. A picture might be perceived as representation of depth.In this visual perception the beholder is aware of the fact that the image is a flatsurface. On the other hand, the picture might be viewed as a set of objectsarranged in depth, where the beholder will perceive the image as what thep sy chologist Harold Schlosberg terms, ‘plastic effect. Depth, then,’ resumesSchlosberg, ‘is not merely something added to a picture in various amounts, butrather a way of perceiving.’ We all are aware of the screen as a flat surface62

featuring for our receptive system the illusion of kinetic depth, which we acceptpolitely. Introducing a perspectival system onto the screen image is qualified toelevate the efficiency of its communicational stream to the degree of excellence.This artistic system of representation places the beholder at a fixed distance and

J o hn White, The Birth and Rebirth of Pictorial Space. Faber and Faber 1957 (1967, and 3 Ed., Cambridge,6 3 rd

Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press 1987), pp. 192&198.

See Ibid., p. 198.64

Ernst Hans Gombrich, The Sense of Order: A Study in the Psychology of Decorative Art. Ithaca, New York: Cornell6 5

University Press 1979, p. 126.

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location in relation to the scene being observed. Upon this canonized point-of-view rests the whole concept of the illusory space, and at that point experiencingthe illusion of reality will be demonstrated at its best. Still, in addition to beinga t ool in the hands of the artist for commanding the beholder’s interest, thecentrality of artificial perspective has a tendency toward compositional unity, inwhich every object in the space will be related to a single set of rules. Putting63

each object in its place on a perspectival image is codified by measures that lendt he unity and realism to the pictorial composition. ‘Perspective diminution’observed John White, ‘brings space into harmony with the unity of lighting andof atmospheric graduation of colour which was of increasing interest to the artist.As a t ool for the construction of new subtleties of pictorial organization’maintained John White, ‘the new perspective is as much as a revolution, . . . asmeans of heightening the illusion of reality.’ 64

Unlike an asymmetrical spatial arrangement, symmetrical organization is anotherartistic vehicle for extending our field of vision; on either side of the focal pointof the image we see, we are confronted with a set of mirrored aesthetic signsbroadening the field of our vision. Hollywood’s scenographical departments65

applied this concept of expanding the visual field in their settings’ compositionsfrequently, before and after the arrival of sound: Our Dancing Daughters (1928),The King of Jazz (1930), One Hour With You (1932), Perfect Understanding(1933) or Top Hat (1935) among others, all introduced the symmetrical spatialconfiguration in one form or another in their settings, and consequently createdthe illusion of spaciousness for the perceiver. Our visual sensation of objects’solidity and roundness in the space is derived from the muscular impression ofret rogressive lines, accommodation and locomotion. A figure has a particularshape because of the properties characterizing it in such a way in front of theperceiver’s eyes. These pictorial vocabularies connote muscular sensations inspace, which result from the eye movement while “tracing out” the object’s lines.The muscular sensations provoked by the objects’ properties matches or parallelsthe same frequency of similar sensations in the beholder’s eye from the past.

Cf. Julian Hochberg, The Psychophysics of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 10 (1962), pp.66

28&29.

See Standish D. Lawder, The Cubist Cinema. New York: New York University Press 1975, p. 19; theoretically motion67

p e rc e p t i o n is classified under two categories: real motion and subjective motion; in the former the perceptual process isinitiated from the movement of an object in a realistic space and relates to the perception of motion, while the latterperceptual interpretation emerges from a stationary stimuli’s spatiotemporal complex (details); Rayford T. Saucer,P ro c e s s e s of Motion Perception, in: Science, Vol. 120 (11 June 1954), pp. 806&807; our receptive system is qualifiedt o d i s c ri mi nate ‘that two two-dimensional pictures portray objects of the same three-dimensional shape even though theo b jects are depicted in very different orientations.’ See Roger N. Shepard and Jacqueline Metzler, Mental Rotation ofThree-Dimensional Objects, in: Science, Vol. 171 (19 February 1971), pp. 701-703.

Th e fa c t of the Television apparatus having two different alignment levels for contrast and brightness is a reminder6 8

that the two levels of contrast differ from each other; see Robert Sekuler and Eugene Levinson, The Perception of MovingTargets, in: S. A., Vol. 236, No. 1 (1977), pp. 60-73; when Stimulus contrast is alternated, it would provoke ‘one or theo t her movement sensation to predominate.’ J. Timothy Petersik & Allan J. Pantle, Contrast Response of AntagonisticMovement-Analyzing Mechanisms, in: Bulletin of the Psychonomic Society, Vol. 8 (1976), p. 240.

290

From a psychological sense, an image is a composition of a set of analogies, theyare composed in a calculated and whimsical visualization terminology of tactual-kinesthetic recommendation in the space. 66

M ediat ing the impression of kinetic dynamism and creating illusion are twopivotal constituents of the motion pictures, which granted the new medium itshigh status in the world of art. When involved in a filmic communication, thebeholder is about to enter a realistic, utopian or strange world that is onlyattainable through dreams or illusions. But inviting the beholder willingly to67

ent er the mental world during the pictorial communication, has always beenconditioned with norms and rules to be met by the artist, who forms the screenimage. Among these rules is the contrast threshold of the screen image. Whethera moving or patterned image, its visual perception depends immediately on thet onal values presented in that image. By manipulating the brightness of thescreen image, the outcome may call for poor perception or even for the image’sdisappearance -as often happens with a very low-contrasted image. The image68

might gain high definition with distinct detail, when the contrast level is intense.In the previous Chapter, we covered the contrast qualities of pictures illuminatedunder the intensity of carbon arc lamps that represented harshly contrasted anddistinct image details on the screen. Other pictures produced with Mazda lightingfeatured less contrast, some diffusion, and fuzzy scenes with less detail in theclose-ups, which is referred today to as “fuzzyography,” having emerged in thesecond half of the 1920's and continued into the 1930's. This makes bothillumination qualities, carbon arc and incandescent tungsten, define two different

Ern s t Hans Gombrich, Tributes: Interpreters of our Cultural Tradition. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press6 9

1 9 8 4 , p . 95; in the Streamlined Art Moderne, forms of penetration recalled the impression of expressing a subconsciousme a n i n g of the amorous, in this regard Sigmund Freud understood the Zeppelin as a sign of the masculine code in thedream; See Donald J. Bush, The Streamlined Decade. New York: George Braziller 1975, p. 176, fn. 9.

Phillip J. Kaplan, The Best, Worst & Most Unusual: Hollywood Musicals. New York: Beekman House 1983, p. 43.7 0

Tony Thomas, That’s Dancing! New York: Harry N. Abrams 1984, pp. 107&114.71

291

eras in the contrast of the screen image.

When Sigmund Freud, the founder of Psychoanalysis, addressed the translationof an artistic product as dream or a day-dream, he acknowledged the aspect ofthe aesthetic of stylization. Because the aesthetic quality of the artistic69

translation, manifested in the artist’s product, has a profound influence on themental state of its beholder; on another occasion Freud said “sometimes a cigaris just a cigar.” Busby Berkeley’s Surrealistic vision and approach in hismusicals’ interpretations opposed this theory. For Berkeley, an object can serveanother purpose than its original. Moreover, Berkeley’s Surrealistic dance ideas70

were the product of his subconscious mind. ‘He claimed that some of the ideascame to him as he lay in his bath in the early morning, with the result that whenhe bounced into the studio with some fantastic concept the cry would be, “Oh,Buzz has just had a bath.”’ Berkeley’s daydreams were stunningly translated71

in terms of narrative images on the screen. During the 1930's and beyond,Berkeley saw and employed obviously the other function of the object in hismusicals’ visualization- like Chaplin or the Marx Brothers, Berkeley used objectsfor other narrative functions than what they were really for. Berkeley went evenfurther than any of his contemporaries in this respect, and introduced the mise-en-scene in the most bizarre way; for Berkeley the characters on the stage wereonly a vehicle helping him translate his ideas to the camera. He used the humanelement for shaping unusual kaleidoscopic patterns in the camera eye, and thosescenes were typical interpretations of Berkeley’s dreams or day-dreams. Whether42nd Street (1933), or Gold Diggers (1933, 1935, 1937), for example, Berkeleyused the chorus of young people or a landscape of solid objects on the set, toshap e his spatial composition and convey his concept of the day-dreamstylization and therefore attain the novelty of screen depth.

5.2 Aesthetic Triangle: Summary and Conclusion

‘The visual field,’ defined James J. Gibson ‘is simply the pictorial mode of visual perception, and it depends in the7 2

l a s t analysis not on conditions of stimulation but on conditions of attitude. The visual field is a product of the chronich a b i t of civilized men of seeing the world as a picture.’ See James J. Gibson, The Visual Field and the Visual World: AReply to Professor Boring, in: P. R., Vol. 59 (1952), pp. 149-151.

Ze non W. Pylyshyn, What the Mind’s Eye Tells the Mind’s Brain: A Critique of Mental Imagery, in: Psychological7 3

Bulletin, Vol. 80, No. 1 (July 1973), p. 9.

Julian Hochberg, The Psychophysics of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 10 (1962), p. 22.74

Ma ry Eunice McCarthy, Hands of Hollywood. Hollywood: Photoplay Research Bureau 1929, p. 64; John Arnold,7 5

C i n ematography-Professional, in: Willard D. Morgan (Ed.), The Complete Photographer. Vol. 2, New York: NationalEd u c a t i o n al Alliance 1942, p. 754; see Pryluck’s Multi-Stage Process Model of Codification; Calvin Pryluck, StructuralAnalysis of Motion Pictures as a Symbol System, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 16, No. 4 (Winter 1968), p. 378.

Slavko Vorkapich, A Fresh Look at the Dynamics of Film-Making, in: A. C., Vol. 53 (February 1972), p. 192.76

292

In t he real world, during the perception of a scene, the perceiver’s attitudedepends on the visual experience, i.e., one may perceive a linear perspective inthe visible world as a convergent (visual field) or as a non-convergent (visualworld). This means that our type of perceptual attitude will define the mode of72

our visual experience. By continuation, when we accept the perceptual fact, weretrieve our pictorial data in our mind after it has been recorded in our visualmemory, then we come to understand that these pictorial attributes must be firstvisually perceived, prior to the image’s translation into expressive terms. Thismeans that the manifestation quality of the image precedes its explanation by thecustomary perceptual organization. In other words, ‘an object or shape must be73

first perceived before it can function in the process of communication andeducation,’ and this perceptual equation is fully applicable to filmic74

communication. In the moving picture, the process of perception, between thescreen images and their perceiver, emerges after the cinematographict ransformance delivers a set of pictorial information to the screen(scenographical, pictorial, and other dramatic means) to ultimately be seen by thebeholder. The pictorial representation has the role of mediating between the75

sp at ial externalization and its perceiver. ‘Before a semblance of the concretevisual reality can reach the viewer,’ elaborated Hollywood’s Scenographer andfilmer Slavko Vorkapich, ‘it first must go through two machines: the camera andthe projector.’ In the motion pictures, the screen image, stated Maya Deren, is76

qualified and should be treated as the source and fundamental unit of the creative

Maya Deren, Cinematography: The Creative Use of Reality, in: George Amberg (Edition), The Art of Cinema: Selected7 7

Essays. New York: Arno Press & The New York Times 1972, p. 163.

H e rtha Kopfermann, Psychologische Untersuchungen uber die Wirkung zweidimensionaler Darstellungen korperlicher7 8

Gebilde, in; Psychologische Forschung, Vol. 13, Berlin: Springer Verlag 1930, p. 356.

Compensatory explanations are a way of combining successive eye glances into sufficient perceptual means ‘whether7 9

b a s e d o n e x t raretinal signals or on the transformations of the visual image.’ Cf. Julian Hochberg and Virginia Brooks,Film Cutting and Visual Momentum, in: John W. Senders, Dennis F. Fisher, and Richard A. Monty (Ed.), Eye Movementsand the Higher Psychological Functions. Hillsdale, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum 1978, p. 293.

S. jay Samuels, Attentional Process in Reading: The Effect of Pictures on the Acquisition of Reading Responses, in:8 0

Journal of Educational Psychology, Vol. 58, No. 6 (1967), pp. 337-342.

293

action.77

During the perceptual process of a two- or three-dimensional figure ‘spielt oftdas raumliche Zueinander “von mir zu dem Ding” oder “vom Ding zu mir” einelebendige Rolle.’ When perceiving our surroundings the perceptual process78

concludes in a chain of successive images, and nearly all of these images areperceived by the working of our perceptuo-motor . In watching moving pictures,the perceiver is served by sequences which mostly are embodied of series of non-overrunning views. Linking our sequential blinks into a united logical meansoccurs in two ways: ‘compensatory’ explanations (subtractive), or ‘inferential’expectancy-testing (schema-testing explanations). The former perceptual act mayor may not be granted complete credibility for explaining our perceptualorganization of combining those images. Compensatory explanations cannotaccount for our perceptual process in the moving pictures, where images aredeveloped by the progression of non-overlapping scenes.79

By it s nature, the medium of the motion picture relies on pictorialcommunication, image reading and perception, which is relatively easier thangrasping or encoding written words or texts, specifically by the less educatedbeholder. A psychological experiment has supported this suggestion, in whicht he participation of pictures decelerates reading acquisition. As suggested80

earlier, our reading of most pictorial images relates immediately to our pastexperience, which we obtained over the course of time from the world in whichwe are living. This previous knowledge explains our fairly smooth encoding ofsome p ict ures better than others that do not correspond to our backgroundknowledge. Moreover, the phenomena of perceptual organization, claimed JulianHochberg, involve the perceiver’s ‘tactual and kinesthetic memories’

Julian Hochberg, Organization and the Gestalt Tradition, in: Edward C. Carterette and Morton P. Friedman (Ed.),8 1

H a n d b o o k o f Perception: Historical and Philosophical Roots of Perception. Vol. 1, New York: Academic Press 1974,p . 180; Julian Hochberg, Psychophysics and Stereotype in Social Perception, in: Muzafer Sherif and M. O. Wilson (Ed.),Emerging Problems in Social Psychology. Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma 1957, pp. 126&127.

James J. Gibson, A Theory of Pictorial Perception, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 1 (1954), pp. 19&20.82

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accumulated of past experience with realistic scenes, i.e., by means of ourphysical touch and activity with these objects in the real space. 81

When observing some familiar scenographical vocabularies, we soon relate thoseof our past experience with such properties or with something close to them,which enables the narrative paradigm of the viewed scene to be adapted to thevisual memory at ease. By classifying bath settings, offices, boudoirs, ships,kitchens, hotels, night clubs, or some of the outdoor conditions of the westernp ictures, our judgment would be based on our relative past experience andknowledge. In the case of the western landscape, we would know that suchpictorial discrimination would not have difficultly in the encoding process, sincet he majority of us, if not all, are familiar with such spatial constituents(mountains, desert, water, horses or caravans). This form of familiarity assistedHollywood throughout motion picture history to secure its place with millionsas a new form of narrative excellence. The motion picture would not haveassured such success with the public or the average viewer, if the film mediumhad been adapting, predominantly, another art form beyond the form of realism.In attending the order of realistic spatial configuration, Hollywood filmScenographers kept the space and its attributes closer to the beholder’s life andexperience. And by following this accent of realism, Hollywood’s aesthetic signsin the spatial organization became a stereotype standard for our everyday life.

Pictorial communication together with its perceptual process pertains to a systemof complexities. ‘The issues involved in picture-viewing’ commented James J.Gibson ‘are highly complex, including as they do problems of spatial perceptionand perceptual constancy.’ Indeed filmic communication, as much as it is close82

t o first-hand experience and is a desired form of communication, has ananalytical level which appertains to some sets of complexities. Pictorialp ercep t ion or moving picture perception is a subject hardly touched by themotion picture critic or by psychological investigators. As we have already seen,a chain of aesthetic signs and data governs the process of motion pictures and itsperception. After all, the visual sensation of the scenographic form emerges from

Donald G. Perrin, A Theory of Multiple-Image Communication, in: A. V. Communication Review, Vol. 17, No. 483

(Winter 1969), pp. 370-371.

Slavko Vorkapich, A Fresh Look at the Dynamics of Film-Making, in: A. C., Vol. 53 (February 1972), p. 183.84

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the film Scenographer’s sketching board, to be treated at the next level by thecinematographer, by the laboratorial process and the projection on the screen soas to be finally served up for the beholder. By then, every phase has achieved itsnorm which I have attempted to articulate throughout this study.

By their very nature, images provide a wide range of information, and theassociation of two or more images will hit toward an accent of complexity. It willintensify the visual task. With the multiplication of images, the correspondencebetween these images is consequential. In this association of images, pertinentand impertinent data provided will accelerate into making it a lawful motivationto call for simple images to maintain the visual process as smoothly as possible.83

Our perceptual capacity is more likely to be overwhelmed when we watch a film,because when a flood of a pictorial streams hit the screen, a world of visualinformation clashes with it, so that we are bombarded with a current ofperceivable material. This occurrence of confronting the beholder with a massiveaccumulation of aesthetic signs and visual data during the filmic communication,is associated with a selective perceptual process of the audio-visual. If thepictorial information is reduced to the significant, the beholder would be betterserved in their pictorial appreciation. To my knowledge, this suggestion lies att he heart of calling for simplicity when dealing with pictorial information ingeneral, and in the scenographical stylization in particular. When attending ascreen story, the beholder is expecting some form of enjoyable narrative and nota puzzle-solving experience. Slavko Vorkapich supported this form of visualsimplicity on the screen for its narrative efficiency. For Vorkapich ‘the simplerthe visual situation, the stronger the impact.’ 84

But here we must discriminate between the form of narrative simplicity and thatof the trivial monotony of the spatial interpretation. Settling for organic unity int he sp at ial organization is a form of balance to reach clarity during thecomprehension of the dramatic action. By adapting the Moderne as spatiallandmark on the screen during the Nineteen-Thirties, Hollywood’s screen imagewas attending the faculty of simplicity. When smooth lines, angularity and whiteflat surfaces became mainstream in film scenography during the decade, itreceived wide acceptance by the public. With this now we know why and how the

V i n c e n t LoBrutto, By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers. Westport, Connecticut: Praeger 1992, p.8 5

104.

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trend of scenographical modernity has secured such highly perceptual qualityduring its Golden Age.

More than any other studio in Hollywood, Warner Brothers’ film-makers werewell aware of the concept of simplicity during the 1930's. No matter what theproduction phase might be (scenography, camera work, or work in thelaboratory), there was no space for wasting time or material. In Warner’s cuttingrhythm, for instance, every second counted and every word carried out itsmeaning as the story was unfolded, and so functioned their settings. Thisconcrete processing of the production delivered an elaborate form of simplicityt o t he beholder, far from the irrelevant and distractive methods. Today, thisconcept of elaboration in transmitting a screen communiqué is used by many ofthe commercial productions on the small screen.

After all, various aesthetic signs with theirs subordinated data are synthesizedt oget her to form the body of the filmic production. Not all these cues weretreated in this investigation, because many of these cues have great depth andmeans , and therefore deserve separate dissertations. Besides its being anaes t hetical implication, a scenographical arrangement cannot reach the screenwithout the technical and laboratorial association. Loading the set or adding toit some dramatic means, is a part of the directorial contribution. The director’svision together with the scenographical and cinematographical interpretations,reflected the contemporary Hollywood Scenographer Mel Bourne, constitute atriangle. The best Hollywood director alone cannot put a whole picture together85

without relying on many other talents to complete the job.

As we are nearing the conclusion of this study, we become aware of thescenographic role in the narrative causality of Hollywood’s filmic stylizationduring the 1930's (from me to the image and from the image to me). Afterdefining the film Scenographer’s mission in forming the screen image, we seethat this artist deserves the same status as those who took most of the credit, asit was assumed that the latter were responsible for the entire film alone,t hroughout photoplay’s history. From and within the Scenographic Spaceemerges the narrative action, even if there is no distinctive setting. Still, as Isuggested earlier, without spatial representation the scenographical product

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would not reach the screen by any means, it would remain as a piece of stage art.Cinematographic transformance is what lends the film its status as the motionpicture’s art. It is the camera work that delivers continuously fresh images to thescreen for the beholder to perceive. The process of the moving pictures’communicational stream has its three fundamentals, i.e., an aesthetic triangleconsisting of the spatial arrangement of solid forms as artistic product, and itsrepresentation for delivering its image to the final stage, beholder. We havealready seen how each end of this aesthetic triangle consists of a set of norms orsigns.

Each of t hese three sets of signs depends on the other and cannot functionindependently or on its own. To my judgment, in this study, I have attempted todefine a frame of reference, “Aesthetic Triangle Cycle”, in relation to the filmscenography of Hollywood’s productions during the 1930's, and beyond. TheT riangle’s survival, as a narrative system, depends on simplicity and organicunity. With the aid of this frame of reference, the film scenographical stylizationmay obtain re-classification or be granted a new vision by the film formalists orfuture spatial criticism. Research that has been conducted by others concerningthe motion pictures aesthetical traditions were lacking assurance in this regard.

Hollywood’s spatial configuration together with its representational treatmentduring its Golden Age possessed a highly narrative balance in the spatiotemporalvocabulary. Whether a composition, form, depth cue, camera angle, sonicperspective, tonal value or illumination in the space, all were paradigmaticallyintegrated in the set serving the communicational stream (image-beholder). Afterall, the externalization of the spatial well matched the content of the screen storyand its characterization. It is my belief that aesthetic balance and simplicity in theformation of the screen image during the 1930's were a prime cause for achievingqualitative narration of the first order on the screen. Hollywood film scenographyof the Thirties definitely sustained the classic screen image that we retain today,in our visual memory. The canons of visual form of this period may be seen asthe milestones or points of reference for future productions.

Much still needs to be completed in the conceptualization of the scenographicalfield of the motion pictures. Its contribution to the visual sensation and chargingthe beholder’s psychological state is another field of research, yet waiting forfresh investigations. We should reintroduce film scenographical stylization as aconcept in pictorial communication, and not treat it merely as a stage in filmproduction.

D. Bordwell, J. Staiger and K. Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to8 6

1960, PP. 378-385; Undoubtedly these pictures will have wide recognition in years to come.

Whether India or Egypt, until the late 1940's, both nations were under British rule, who’s film production was8 7

i n fl u e n c e d g re a t ly by “Hollywood modes and codes,” to be carried to those nations; see Noel Burch, To the DistantO b s e r ver: Form and Meaning in the Japanese Cinema. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1979,pp. 26&27.

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5.3 Final Redaction

Classical masterpieces from Hollywood’s Golden Age were eagerly viewed bythe public in the past. Today these pictures still preserve their same narrativequality. Hollywood stylization of the sound decade and beyond placed itssignature not only on every aspect of American life, but also on motion pictureproduction around the world. Japanese, British, German, French, Soviet Russian,Danish or other motion picture industries worldwide were Hollywood’ssubordinates, but not its competitors. After the advent of sound, China,86

Holly wood on the river Nile in Egypt or Indian film, all profited from awholesale usage of Hollywood’s spatiotemporal codes. Their narrative structurewas a replication of that of Hollywood. Supposing we handed the same film87

story to Hollywood and to another production team from any other part of theworld, the artistic product would have definitely two separate qualitativeoutcomes. Hollywood’s artistic interpretation would have exceeding narrativequality, while the other will mostly speak with Hollywood’s spatial andrepresentational accents.

Previously in this study (Chapters Two and Three) I illustrated how each classof American society identified itself with one or another studio’s productions.Home interiors were furnished after film scenes from Cedric Gibbons, or HansDreier. Hollywood’s film scenography in the decade that followed theintroduction of sound into film, came to meet remarkably with the AestheticRevolut ion of the Twentieth-Century. That we have seen in terms ofHollywood’s spatial interpretations of the Moderne.

As the 1930's came to an end, Hollywood production was standardized, andentered a phase of excellence. By then image-sound balance was settled, varioustypes of drama were elaborated, and technical improvements reached a degree

Andre Bazin, Qu-est-ce que le Cinema? Paris: Editions du Cerf, Vol. 1 ( Tr. and Ed. by Hugh Gray, What is Cinema?88

Vol. 1, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1967), p. 30.

A l fre d Hirschmeier, Spielraume: Aus der Werkstatt der Szenographen. Berlin: Akademie der Kunst der DDR 1989,8 9

p. 56.

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of sophistication. Without the accompanying technological breakthroughs, the88

filmic image may not have reached the screen with the narrative quality that itdid. Hollywood’s cinematographic representation, more than any otherp roduction stage of the motion picture, depends essentially on sophisticatedequipment and manufacturers’ improvements to the camera and its accessories.The same is true for the new Panchromatic film stock, incandescent tungstenlighting equipment, lenses, and sound technology, in addition to some varioust echniques- all were improved serving a new dramatic quality on the screen.Parallel to these technical improvements, Hollywood’s film Scenographer waswell prepared delivering, ever, progressive and narrative spatial stylization, byshifting from one scenographical style to another to reflect the age spirit.

F inally, accepting the motion picture medium as image art and sound as itssubordinate, is justified. The Potsdamer film Scenographer Alfred Hirschmeierconfirmed the dominance of the visual aspect in the film. ‘Fur mich’ statedHirschmeier, ‘ist Kino Bildkunst und erst in zweiter Linie Gesprochenes, einDialog.’ Filmic reality consists also of the art of the spoken line by the89

characters, i.e., literature. From the written words emerges the film scenography,and it has the task of liberating the abstract and lending it a form of life in termsof full color spatial organization. In forming a three-dimensional space or reality,the film Scenographer invites the beholder to join the action and perceive themessage of the picture smoothly. This study ascertains the profound dramaticcontribution of the setting in the motion picture, which never goes unnoticed.Even if we are consciously unaware of the scenographic exposition, it isnevertheless existing in our subconscious. A film without its scenography isunimaginable. It is not a film. Hollywood’s best cinematographer or directorcannot shoot an interesting film in an empty space, since the outcome would beambiguous and meaningless, and would never have a completed identity. Itwould be definitely elusive. Here we are facing the most collaborative art of all,but it is the art of the motion pictures.

Something we should be aware of is that the success of the most highly regardedfilms in motion picture history, relates also to these pictures’ scenographical

Mary Eunice McCarthy, Hands of Hollywood. Hollywood: Photoplay Research Bureau 1929, p. 109.90

Richard Griffith, Anatomy of a Motion Picture. New York: St. Martin’s Press 1959, pp. 111&116.91

John J. Floherty, Movie Makers. New York: Doubleday, Doran 1935, p. 100. 92

B e t h Day, This was Hollywood: An Affectionate History of Filmland’s Golden Years. New York: Doubleday 1960,9 3

p. 85.

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stylizations. Without a skillful Scenographer’s contribution the film may neverhave achieved this success or high attendance; some of these masterpieces wouldinclude Frankenstein (1931), The Informer (1935), Dead End (1937), The Wizardof Oz (1939), Citizen Kane (1941), Titanic (1997), or Harry Potter (2004).

‘It is both stupid and unfair for writers to condemn the public for not appreciatingtheir wares, because the public has the right to purchase the kind of entertainmentit prefers’ reported Mary Eunice McCarthy after the arrival of sound. ‘After all,it is the money of the public which builds the theaters, produces the pictures andplays, turns the presses of the publishing houses, and gives the successful artiststheir livelihood.’ This makes it clear, that on the public’s response depends the90

rise or fall of motion picture production. And the public is the one who makes91

this last judgment. 92

Nowadays, Hollywood of the Golden Age has entered the archives of Americanherit age. Generations grew up learning the tales of Dracula (1931) orFrankenstein (1931), others with Astaire-Rogers Musicals, The Wizard of Oz, orGone With the Wind (both 1939). Clark Gable, for instance, was popular to thedegree that moviegoers could recognize him in the public even if he was spottedfrom any angle. The back of his head was as familiar to the motion picturegoersas his face. Today you might ask some average Americans, what the name John93

Ford, Cedric Gibbons, Hans Dreier, Anton Grot, or William Cameron Menziesmeans t o t hem; the answer will be surprising concerning these master film-makers. Hollywood studios either accustomed or educated the public, and everyclass of society had its stereotype settings, characters, or furnishings on thescreen.

Paramount’s chief Scenographer Hans Dreier summed up his department’s taskon the actualization of the film. ‘The art department is one of the first of thestudio forces to come in contact with the story during its preparation and is one

H ans Dreier, Designing the Sets, in: Nancy Naumburg (Ed.), We Make the Movies. New York: W. W. Norton 1937,9 4

p. 89.

Cedric Gibbons, Motion Picture Sets, in: The Encyclopaedia Britannica. 14th Ed., 1929-1939, p. 860.95

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of the last to leave the production.’ Spatial stylization and its screen story94

would positively continue to have a tireless relationship in the future, and thesetwo art models cannot be separated from one another. By anticipating the futureof film scenography, Cedric Gibbons predicted its dependence on the class ofliterature composed. Cedric Gibbons was genuinely accurate, because the mood95

of the story dictates how the form and metaphor of the spatial organization aregoing to be.

AppendixesAppendix: A

SOLVING THE “ICE-BOX” PROBLEM

Cinematographers Show Remarkable Ingenuity in Various Devices TheyHave Worked out to Bring the Cameras Out of Sound Booths.

By WILLIAM STULL, A. S. C.

EVER SINCE the first Vitaphoneexperiments, one of the chief tech-nical problems has been the reduc-

tion of camera noise. Even the best ofpre-talkie cameras were too noisy forsound work, and though they were com-pletely remodeled, and every possiblesource of noise muffled, they were stillloud enough to seriously interfere withthe microphone.Obviously, the onlysolution of theproblem was to iso-late them from themicrophones, andE. B. DuPar, A. S.C., who pho-tographed the firstVitaphone sub-jects, found himselfconfronted with theproblem of doingthis at the very startof his work.

The result was thecamera booth,small, portablesoundproof roominto which camera

and cameraman were locked while work-ing. The scene was photographedthrough a large window of optically planeglass at the front of the booth whileentrance was through a door at the rear.The matter of ventilation was quite over-looked in th first booths, and not greatlyimproved even in the later ones. But theselater booths, however, as sound produc-

tion became gen-eral, evolved intoc o m p a r a t i v e l ypalatial affairs.The current mod-els are much largerthan their prede-cessor, and usuallyhold two cameras,which are mount-ed on a adjustableshelf rather thanon tripods. Theventilation ismuch better, and isoften aided bysmall electric fans,air-hoses, and soon, while commu-nication with the

outside world isE. B. DuPar, A. S. C., in camera booth used in filming the

First Vitaphone picture

maintained through a telephone.

None the less, camera booths of any sortare highly unpopular with cinematogra-phers. This is not only because they are atbest uncomfortable things to work in, butbecause they seriously restrict and harmthe quality of the camera work. Naturallythe size of the booth completely elimi-nates any possible mobility as well asrestricting their placement for angle-shots. Also, the glass through which thescenes are photographed acts as a dif-fuser, and gives "talkie" photography itsobjectionable "mushy" quality.Cameramen don't particularly mindenduring necessary personal discomforts,but when the quality of their work is jeop-ardized, they rise in unanimous protest. Inthis case their protest has taken tangibleform, and given concrete evidence of theingenuity and persistence of the industry'stechnicians. Practically every technicalstaff in Hollywood has attacked the prob-lem of doing away with the booth. Theactual devices resulting from this workare different in each studio, but they areall recognizable as springing from thesame urge, and toward a common goal. Inevery case the same principal aims havebeen in the designers' mind:

1. To do away with the booth.2. To restore the camera mobility.3. To eliminate the glass window.

Probably the earliest of these devices, andone of the most successful, is the

"Bungalow" invented by John Arnold, A.S. C., and in general use at the Metro-Golwyn-Mayer studio. Reduced to itslowest terms, the "Bungalow" is a small,sound proof enclosure built around aMitchell High-speed camera, and mount-ed on a steel tubular tripod which rolls onrubber-tired wheels. It is made of sheetlead over an iron frame, and lined insidewith sound-deadening sponge-rubber.Large doors on either side and behindgive easy access to the various controls ofthe camera, while in front the window isreplaced by a removable plate faced withsponge-rubber, which fits tightly aroundthe lens, damping any noise that mightcome out that way. The matte-box isplaced on the outside of the bungalow, as-is the finder, while the driving motor,being a separate unit in the WesternElectric system, has its own little bunga-low and tripod, and is connected with thecamera by a heavy, flexible-cable driver.For ease of manufacturer, the outfit isstartlingly angular, and looks decidedlylike some cubist's concept of a camera,but it is non the less an essentially practi-cal device, made by an intensely practicalman, for practical use.

When asked about his invention, Mr.Arnold's reply was characteristicallymodest. "Well," he said, "I saw that some-thing had to be done to get us out of thoseinfernal booths, so I just keept at it until Igot something I knew would work."

How well it works is evidenced by the

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fact that the studio uses the "Bungalow"for all purposes to the almost completeexclusion of booths. Furthermore, theimprovement in photography since theiradoption is even more conclusive evi-dence of its success.

Walter Lundin, A. S. C., the chief cine-matographer for Harold Lloyd, has modi-fied the "bungalow" to meet his specialrequirements, and is using it with com-plete success on Lloyd's current picture.

At the RKO studios, Don Jahraus, thehead of the miniature department, hasevolved and equally successful device,though one of an entirely different aspect.His "Blimp Camera" is simply a coveringfor the camera, and fits on any standardtripod. It is made of a frame of Yucca,lined with sponge-rubber, and coveredwith rubber sheathing. Due to the pliabil-ity of its materials the shape of the"Blimp" approximates that of the camera,while its lightness- only 30 lbs.- makes itthe lightest camera cover in general use.The lens as in the Arnold "Bungalow." ismuffled in sponge-rubber, eliminating theundesirable window. The finder is alsooutside the "Blimp,"but the motor is keptinside, as that studio uses the Photophonesystem.

As a unit, the "Blimp" is undoubtedly thelightest and most mobile in general usetoday. It has lately been modified for usewith the Western Electric system byGeorge Barnes and Gregg Toland of the

Samuel Goldwyn Co.'s camera staff. Asthat company still uses booths for muchof the interior work, the glass window isretained in the "Blimp" to preserve amatched photographic quality through-out. They have also considerably enlargedthe device giving more convenient work-ing-space within.

As in the original "Blimp," access to thecamera is by a large door at the back,while the left side is completely remov-able for loading, etc. The finder isenclosed in the body of the "Blimp" andan ample window provided at the rearthrough which it may be viewed. Anotherimportant addition, for which Mr. Tolandis responsible, is a device by which thefocus may be adjusted from the outside.The lens-mount is made with a V-shapedgroove in which a small belt fits andextends to a pulley below, to which isattached a dial calibrated for several lens-es. As the position of this lower assemblyis adjustable, it can quickly be adopted toany lens. This improved "Blimp" can beused from a tripod, but it is generallymounted on a special perambulator,whose height, is quickly adjustable, andwhich makes moving shots even moreconveniently easy than they were beforesound pictures came.

At the Pathe Studios, the problem wastackled by Art Director Edward Jewell,who has turned out one of the most origi-nal devices of its kind. Externally, it looksmore like an Indian cliff- dwelling gone

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astray than anything else, but it works,and is a very satisfactory silencer: it ismade of two papier-mache shells,between which is a layer of sound-absorbent material. At the front a flaringopening surrounds a removable glasswindow, through which both lens andfinder peer. The matte-box is inside thecase as is the motor, making a very con-venient self-contained unit. There is pro-vision made for following focus on mov-ing shots, the focus is being indicated ona scale below the front of the camera. Theunit is used on any standard tripod, butinsulated from actual metallic contacttherewith by its overhanging base. Aunique feature is the absence of doors forgetting at the camera within: instead ofthis, the whole device is separable fromthe base, and may be lifted completelyaway from the camera-hence its nick-name "the Hat." Several of these deviceshave been made, and found satisfactoryunder production conditions by suchmembers of the Pathe camera departmentas Arthur Miller, A. S. C., and NorbertBrodine.

At the Paramount Studio, the chief cam-eraman, Virgil Miller, A. S. C., has, aftermuch research adapted a device known asthe "Baby Booth." This device is the cre-ation of Roy Hunt and Robert Smiley, ofthe camera department, and is just whatits name implies-a miniature booth. It is agood-sized, square box built around anystandard camera, and constructionallyvery like the big booths. It stands on a

special tripod which has, in addition to itslegs, a three wheeled undercarriage whichis raised or lowered by the turn of a crank,and which can be entirely removed, ifnecessary. The "Baby Booth" itself is suf-ficiently large to allow ample workingspace around the camera, or to accommo-date even the wide-film outfits now beingexperimented with. The device retains thefamiliar optical-glass window in front, onwhich provision is made for mountingmattes and gauzes, and around which isbuilt a large metal sunshade. Both thefinder and motor are contained inside thecase, making the unit an extremelymobile one.

Inside, it is probably the most luxuriousdevice in use, for it furnishes the camera-man with every possible convenience.There are small lights for illuminationwhile threading the film; an automaticclutch which disconnects the motor whilethreading the film, or whenever a buckleoccurs; a "bloop light," for marking thestarting point of a scene, which may beworked from either inside or but of thebooth; and an extremely accurate devicefor focusing, which operates from theoutside, and which moves the finder toexactly agree with the changing focus ofthe lens. The focusing arrangement con-sist of a permanent lens-mount, intowhich all the lenses fit, around which asmall chain operates, connecting with alever on the outside of the booth, and alarge indicating quadrant inside. Thisindicator is at the rear of the case, easily

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visible throughout the large rear window,and illuminated by a small lamp con-tained in the pointer. The calibrated scaleson the indicator are interchangeable, sothat each lens has its own accompanyingscale; as these scales are absolutely accu-rate, the value of this feature for present-day cinematography is obvious.

The Paramount Studio at present is exper-imenting with a special camera of theirown manufacture for use wit these " BabyBooth," but current production is beingcarried out with standard Bell & Howelland Mitchell sound cameras. The "BabyBooths," themselves, are completely suc-cessful that the studio is completelyequipping itself with them as fast as theycan be made. During the experimentswhich finally resulted in this acceptedmodel of the device, a number of interest-ing designs were tried, including onewhich embodied a layer of glass in itswalls to achieve the maximum silencewith the minimum bulk.

In the same line-that of securing silentoperation with minimum bulk-a numberof individual cinematographers have car-ried on much worthy research. At theTiffany-Stahl lot, Jackson Rose began byruthlessly ripping the glass from hisbooth, and substituting sheets of sound-absorbing felt, leaving only a small holeto photograph through. This was so suc-cessful that he next made an overcoat forhis camera, a padded robe so suggestiveof "Spark Plug's" famous attire that the

staff at once dubbed it a "BarneyGoogle." It is literally an overcoat to bethrown over the camera, allowing the lensto project from the front, the finder fromthe side, and the motor-cable from therear. The afterpart is fitted with a "Zipper"fastening, so that immediate access maybe had to the camera without removingthe whole cover, and a small window isleft just over the take-up pulley, as acheck against buckles, and such mishaps.The device is so simple and practical thatits use should spread to all companiesusing adequately silent cameras.

Another similar device is the most origi-nal one made by Joseph Walker, A. S. C.,at the Columbia Studio. Walker decidedthat, since the main thing was to preventthe noise of the camera from escaping,the logical process was to catch it as nearthe source as possible. Therefore hedevised a regular suit of armor for hiscamera-a set of back-and-breast plates ofmoulded sponge-rubber, covered withleather, which fit directly onto the cam-era, parts of which have already beentreated with acoustic padding within.Covered this way, the camera is scarcelylarger or heavier than before and all con-trols are readily accessible, yet the majorpart of the noise is effectually smothered.For safety, a sheepskin hood is thrownover the camera and the outfit is ready towork.

The final step in this direction is thattaken by the Fox Studio, where blanketed

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cameras-specially treated to reduce theirnoise- making capacity-are used for allpurposes. And as the manufacturer aresteadily improving their products, it ishardly to be doubted but another year'sprogress will see camera booths entireeliminated, and cameras being used asfreely as before. When such is the case, avery great share of the credit will belongto the cinematographers and other techni-cians whose artistic devotion and inven-tive genius have again triumphantly risen tosurmount the obstacles of the apparentlyimpossible; to the men who don't know how tosay, "It can't be done!"1 Quoted from WilliamStull, SOLVING THE "ICE-BOX" PROB-LEM; in: AC, Vol. 10, No. 6 (September 1929),pp. 7&36.

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Appendix: B

EVERY HOME’S A S . T . A . G .E.CEDRIC GIBBONS

DESINGER OF PICTURE SETS AND DECORATOR OF HOMES OF HOLLY-WOOD STARS, TELLS HOW A WOMAN’S HOME MAY DRAMATIZE HERPERSONALITY, IN AN INTERVIEW WITH

MAYME OBER PEAK

A HOME HAS much thesame decorating problems asa motion-picture set. It shouldbe primarily a background forthe action that takes place in itand the personalities who livein it.

Good motion-picture settingsnot only express what is goingto happen on those sets, butare designed as suitable back-grounds for the personalitiesof the players. Anyone pass-ing by and seeing the varioussets can tell about what typesof scenes are to be played inthem, as well as what type ofpeople will enact them.

And so it is in planning thedecoration of a home. I wouldhave to know what kind ofpeople are going to live in it;something about the live theylead, who their friends are, what types of

CORNER OF LIVING ROOM IN “MEN MUST FIGHT [1933]” M.-G.-M. “

BEDREOOM IN “[OUR] DANCING DAUGHTERS [1928]” M.-G.-M.

entertainments they give. Certainly Iwould design a far different house for ayoung married couple fond of gay partiesthan I would for an elderly couple wholike bridge. If the home were for a familywhere children and their parents live allover the house, the selections would bemade for durability.

When a woman selects her clothes, shechooses those in which she looks well.Why not feel the same way about therooms she lives in?

People can classify themselves in relation

to furniture styles just as they can withother styles. Why does a woman wear acertain hat, or a man a certain necktie?Enjoying the advantage of seeing photo-graphs and motion pictures, it is now easyfor a person to visualize herself in the set-ting and say, "I like it"-or, "I don't like it."But always a woman should make thisdecision after considering herself in rela-tion to it. Instead of wondering if a rugwould fit into her room, she should visu-alize herself against it in her new blue orpink or red dress and ask, "would it bebecoming to me?"

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A corner of the living room in the home of Cedric Gibbons and his wife, Dolores del Rio.

Fashion magazines give a cue to the cor-rect solution of this problem. They nevertry to place fashions against a movingbackground . Always, they put their pic-tures and photographs of manikinsagainst a very simple background. And soit is with rooms. When a room is designedwith neutral tones, it will lend charm tothe woman and to her dress. When anobject fight its background, they destroyeach other. Simplicity of surroundingsadds to a woman's personality; ornate andoverdecorated effects depreciate thecharm of the woman who moves amongthem.

Of course, personalities differ. Some aremore dynamic than others, and thus thedecorations of their homes may differ.Norma Shearer is a feminine, responsive,vibrant sort of person. Hence I have dec-orated her home so that the backgroundare very simple. She does not sit in a chairwith a huge design of upholstery. JoanCrawford is a more vivid, more restlesspersonality. She can have a bolder back-ground in her settings.

Sets are designed and decorated byexperts. Under my supervision is a largestaff of architects, designers and decora-tors. We have a department where furni-ture is made and upholstered, drapesmade, rugs woven and pictures framed.We have also a property department, withbuyers for it scattered all over the world.

Each picture averages forty sets. Metro-

Goldwyn-Mayer Studio alone makesfifty-two pictures a year. Unless they areperiod pictures, which have to be authen-tic, new ideas are being introduced con-tinually.

Of course the designer, or decorator, of aset can be much more original and spec-tacular than the decorator of a living roomin someone's home. But many ideas aresuggested that can be modified effective-ly. Ideas in the hanging of drapes, in newupholstery material such as satin-glowoilcloth, in the shape and weave of rugs,and so on. If they fit some peculiar needin a woman's home, she is certain to usethem.

Lamps have been widely copied, particu-larly in modern sets. The twin beds,joined in a single, broad headboard cov-ered in velour-used in [Our] DancingDaughters [1928]-were reproduced inmany homes.

Another bedroom in [Our] DancingDaughters creating great interest showeda different-yet very effective treatment oftwin beds modernized Directoire, paintedblack with ivory panels, etched in gold atthe head and foot. The beds were mount-ed on a low, black dais, with the headsresting in arch. Over each was hung amodern French print, with mats of thedamask used as upholstery for the chairsand couch-black, figured with birds of allcolors.

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One of the loveliest color-harmony setswe have designed will be seen in Menmust fight [1933]. The action taking placein the 1940, called for advanced modernfurnishings.

A striking effect was achieved by sewinga square of white carpet in the center of amahogany- brown rug. The baby grandpiano was enameled white, also thewoodwork. Chairs are covered in cerisesatin, piped with white-wool fringe. Thesame fringe trims short drapes of thecerise. Glass curtains are of whiteorgandie; long drapes of two shades ofsilver damask in block design.

Hiding Architectural Faults

BY ADDING touches similar to what Ihave described in these sets, new

interest can be given a room which hasbecome boresome. New shades in yourcolor shame, reupholstery-which willchange an entire room-new drapes, a dec-orative screen or two, a couple of glassbowls filled with cheerful flowers, achange in the position of your lights, ifpossible.

I am great believer in paint. There is noreason for a room to be dark and uninvit-ing. To make a dark room gay, after youhave painted the walls and woodworkwhite, I would get some cheerful andhappy-colored yellow linen (no floraldesign) for drapes, with some green braidor piping around the edge. I would use a

warm green rug, cover the furniture inneutral tan, and shade the lamps in yellowto reflect warmth.

To conceal defects of architecture, manytricks of line and fabric can be employed.Ill- proportioned windows can be soft-ened by draperies. If too narrow, run thedrapes over on each side. If too short,lengthen the window by lengthening yourdrapes. Your valance above also willenlarge the size of the window.

The same apply to doorways. If they aretoo low, very often a panel above willincrease the height. If too narrow, a deco-rative panel placed on either side, or twosmall pedestals or tables with vases offlowers, will widen the doorway.

When a budget is limited, the best stylesto be followed through are EarlyAmerican, English or painted furniture ingood taste.

We receive three times as many lettersabout modern sets as period sets. By"modern" I mean straight, simple lines inkeeping with the way people in the masslook and act today. I can't see a woman ina so-called period room dressed as she isnow. A French room undoubtedly is avery charming room, but the Americanwoman of today doesn't fit into a LouisXVI or XVIII setting.

If I were giving a series of command-ments, or rules, for a woman to follow

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when decorating her home, the first thingI would stress is -go in for design in onlyone place in a room. If you upholster acouch with hand-blocked linen of largedesign, certainly that looks bad with aChinese rug. The size of the flowers in thelinen and in the design of the rug throweverything out of a scale.

If material are brocade or floweredchintz, get a rug of solid design. Plain car-pets in neutral tones are best. Whentables, chairs, couches are placed on thatcarpet, they make a design in themselves.Avoid cluttered carpets or walls. Theylack repose.

Be certain that the pieces of furniture youbuy are in scale with the rest of the room.No room is bad or hopeless, until it hasbeen overdecorated and people beginmoving in furnishings all out of propor-tion. The most usual common mistakewomen make in selecting furniture andornaments is forgetting entirely the sizeof the room. They buy a desk, bookcaseor cabinet which projects too far into theroom; a chair or table so heavy that itmakes the room seem smaller than it is.

If you possibly can avoid it, do not buyfurniture in suites. If you have alreadybought one, try reupholstering one or twopieces with a tone of the color of the orig-inal upholstery. If the couch has remov-able cushions, reupholster them . Youmight even paint one or two pieces.

Do not place too many pieces of furnitureobliquely in a room. They project certainseries of lines. Placing chairs, and so on,obliquely in a small room also over-crowds it. The individual units are solarge, they give the room a jumbled feel-ing. Place the furniture in friendly groups,so that the room looks inviting, makesyou want to sit and read or chat. A friend-ly room is restful and always in goodtaste.

If you are buying a comfortable armchair,be careful of the color and texture of theupholstery material. I prefer neutralshades of corduroy. Nothing wears better.As a boy, I remember my corduroytrousers outlasted my shoes. Lambskins,clipped close, also make a durable, attrac-tive, though more expensive covering.

There are some woolens that are delight-ful and durable, also the new horsehairfabrics. The latter com in white and vari-ous checkered designs.

Forgotten Drape Materials

FOR drapes, seersucker is a materialthat long has been neglected.

Gingham also, which in the better gradescan be used for accessories like lampshades and picture frames. Blue denimsuch as overalls are made of, wears aboutas well as anything I know of for drapes.My favorite material is white sailcloth, ordrill, fifty inches wide, which costs thirty-five cents a yard. I have curtains of this

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with weight at the bottom, all over myhome. This sailcloth dyes any color youwant, is very strong and stands constantrubbing.

In the matter of accessories, be extremelycareful about lamp shades. They shouldbe fairly simple, and of straight contourinstead of with curves that look likeumbrellas. Shades are supposed to shieldyour eyes from direct light. Plain parch-ment shades always are good.

Distribute your light. Do not concentratetoo much of it. Have a general glow witha few points of concentration for reading.

Drapes dangling of the end of pianos, orscarfs crushed in the middle of tables, arevery bad.

Throw out anything with a naturalisticdesign. If you have a lamp that has flow-ers twisted on the bronze base, handsholding a clock or vase, or something likethat-don't give it a way, destroy it!

Never hang framed photographs. Theyshould be placed on tables and chests.Use few pictures on the walls, and be surethose few are good. Perfect reproductionof modern and old masters in prints noware in the market at reasonable prices.These are so much better taste than badoriginal oil paintings.

Avoid fads in doing your house over-suchas the all-white or mid-Victorian-unless

you are able to refurnish as soon as youtire of them-which you will do, sooner orlater. Live with your house a little while.Go at it slowly. Buy a number of goodbooks on interior decorating. Eventuallyyou will develop a taste in selection of theright thing. And when you are attracted tosomething original on the screen, you willbe able to discriminate as to its suitabilityfor you. Quoted from Cedric Gibbons, in aninterview with, Mayme OberPeak, EveryHome’s A STAGE, in: Ladies’ Home Journal(July 1933), pp. 25&77.

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subject. We frequently hear the question:what is the one element most inimical togood photography?

The question is easily answered-it is flatlighting.

What is more serious, the evil is stillapparent,regardless of the aforemen-tioned improvements in the materials andapparatus.

We may look for the reason in the factthat the developments in esthetics havenot kept pace with those of science and

mechanics.

Of course this suggests a controversialpoint. But it cannot be denied that we livein an age that does not encourage thesestudies that demand patience, close appli-cation and considerable time

This matter of lighting a photographicsubject is embodied in that category ofesthetic studies that cannot be learnedovernight. It cannot be supplied, even, bya faultless use of exposure meter, themodern lens and fancy camera and sensit-ometric processing. It comes only as aresult of earnest study, much experiment-ing, close observation and mental record-

ing of beautiful chance effects in naturalsubjects.

Appendix: c

MORE ABOUT LIGHTING

By LEWIS W. PHYSIOC Technical Director, International Photographer

DESPITE the great advancesmade in the manufacture ofphotographic materials, cam-eras and general equipment,

the matter of lighting is an all-important

Figure 2

Figure 1

One of the commonest examples of whichwe may learn from chance effects is expe-rienced while sitting the projecting roomwatching the "dailies." They are runningan elaborate scene where some specialeffect has been carefully designed.

Everything in the matter of equipment thestudio can boast has been used-lights,lights, and more lights. But the "shot"doesn't seem to "click." No one seemsgreatly to enthuse. The end of the scenecomes. Some of the lights are turned off,leaving just sufficient, as was thought, forthe boy to step in and hold the slate.Everybody gasps. There undersigned, bythe merest chance, is the beautiful effectso much desired, so carefully striven for.But everything had been used but aknowledge of lighting. That old bugaboo,

flat lighting, had destroyed all effect.

But that it not all that flat lightingdestroys-it may totally destroy all idea ofform.

From the foregoing discussion we get the

suggestion that lighting ambodies threeimportant elements necessary to artistic

photography:Firs, the rendering of effects. Second, the preservation of nat-

ural beauty.Third, the suggestion of proper

form.

This last element, form, is necessary tothe others, for both depend upon a faith-ful rendition of the form.

The greatest problem of the motion pic-ture photographer, in particular, is pre-serving, and even favoring, the beauty ofhis feminine star. For a long time it wasthought that this was possible only by flatlighting-the burn-up method. We aregradually providing the error of thismethod.

The rendering of form is commonlycalled modeling, and depends upon theproper distribution of light, shade andshadow. The getting of effects and pre-serving beauty is achieved by the degree

Figure 4

315

Figure 3

of contrast-the proper choice of the qual-ity of light, its modification, by mediumsor diffusion, and the strength of the high-lights and shadows.

This matter of lighting is very difficult forthe photographer as compared to thepainter.

The artist can render very delicate effectswithout danger of flatness, because hecan build up the modeling (orchiaroscuro, as he calls it) by a widerange of tints not available to photogra-pher, who must paint only in light andshade. Of course, color photographygreatly lessens the evils of flat lighting,but by no means dispenses with thenecessity for artistic lighting.

The matter of photographing woman is soimportant, it is well to impress upon thestudent a few points that may be learnedby observation and simple experiments.

Beauty may be preserved, and evenenhanced, by the correct diffusion oflights. And the sources should be as sim-ple as possible. Remember that everylight casts its shadows and that a multi-plicity of shadows raises havoc with abeautiful face.

Diffusion may be accomplished in twoways-more properly speaking, the lightmay be modified by diffusion and disper-sion by reflection. The mediums of diffu-sion and the reflecting of surfaces are all

important; as are, also, the distance of dif-fusing mediums from the source of light,and the distance of reflectors from thesubject. Try a few of these experiments:

Stand before a window facing the north;hold a piece of white paper in one handand interpose the other hand before thelight and the paper, and observe the soft-ness of the shadow. This proves the beau-tiful dispersion of the north light.

Perform the same experiment, using vari-ous reflectors, tin, harsh aluminum, softeraluminum, then a white sheet or mattesurface cardboard. The harshness or soft-ness of the shadow cast will doubtlesssuggest which should be used on a deli-cate face, particularly on the eyes.

Then spread a piece of white paper onyour desk; place upon it some objectround in form, with some sort of protu-berances on the surface. Throw your desklight across the object from the side, so asto bring out the form sharply. Then youmight say to yourself: "If I photographeda girl in that sort of light, I'd make herlook like her grandma!" This might be thecase.

But now you take a piece of a tracingpaper, or ground glass, and hold it overthe light. The effect on the object is muchmore pleasing, but the shadow of theobject on the paper is still well definedand a little harsh and the protuberancesstill show up pretty strong. Gradually

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draw the diffuser away from the light andnearer to the object. It will then be noticedthat the cast shadow becomes softer, theprotuberances not nearly so harsh. Andwhat is more striking, the light side of theobject appears more brilliant, the shadedside glows with a soft reflected light andyet the form of the object is perfectlymaintained.

If you don not believe that flat lightingdestroys form, look at Figure 1 of theaccompanying cut. See if you can deter-mine the forms of the three uprights: yetit is supposed to represent three differentand distinct forms. The picture was takenwith the lighting falling upon the objectdirectly in front. Such lighting frequentlyemployed by photographers who use astrong light directly over the camera orvery nearly in such a position, and also byholding the flash bulb in such a position.This shame of lighting cannot produceany degree of shading (or modeling) sonecessary to represent the form of anobject.

Figure 2 shows the uprights pho-tographed with the same light, except thatit is now placed so as to shine upon theobjects from a side position, clearlybringing out the forms of the uprights.One can hardly believe the two picturesrepresent the same objects. However,there is still a chance for improvement,for there is a suggestion of harshness asseen in the rough texture of the surfaces.

The light is a little too direct. Sometimesa face, even though beautifully formed,has certain little blemishes, like the poresand excrescences of the skin; too direct alight exaggerates these little faults.

Figure 3 shows a further improvement.The same light is used and the same sidedirection, except in this illustration thelight has been diffused after the mannersuggested in the experiment of holdingthe diffuser close to the objects. Observehow the roughness in the texture of thesurfaces is now smoothed out and beauti-fied. Yet the modeling is still preserved,only softer, with less contrast. This isideal scheme of lighting for feminineheads.

Figure 4 is merely a simple suggestion ofthe possibilities of securing dramatic andpictorial effects by employing cast shad-ows. Broad, plain surfaces may beenhanced in interest by throwing castshadows upon them; and, at the sametime, the form of objects may be accentu-ated. Quoted from Lewis W. Physioc,MORE ABOUT LIGHTING, in:International Photographer, Vol. 8, No. 7(Augest 1936), pp. 2&5.

317

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Bassim Sannah _________________________________ 7306 N.E. 107th Ave. Vancouver, Washington 98662 (360) 256-0632 bsannah@zcloud.net

Curriculum Vita

Bassim Sannah was born in Ariha, Idlib-Syrian Arab Republic, March 12, 1959. He attended the Ariha public schools and was graduated from Al Kassam High School in 1978. Following graduation, he pursued his education abroad. He traveled to Istanbul, Turkey. After his graduation from the Turkish Language Institute, he resumed his education at the Guzel Sanatlar Akademyesi, and was awarded the BA in the Design Arts Degree, for the Theater, TV, and Film in 1984. He continued his graduate work at the Guzel Sanatlar Akademyesi, and received his MFA Degree in the Design Arts in 1986. Bassim wants resuming his education career. In 1986 he traveled to Germany and was enrolled at the Goethe Institute learning the German language, and in 1987 he continued learning the language at the Bremen University till he graduated with PNDS certificate. In 1988 he was enrolled at the Bremen University in the English Department till 1989. In 1990 he was enrolled in the MA Theater, Film and TV program at the Ruhr University, Bochum. After completing his classes in 1993, he was enrolled in the Ph. D. program at the same university. In an attempt to reach the first hand experience, related to his Dissertation “The Characteristic Features of Hollywood’s Scenographical Stylization (1930-1939),” he moved to the United States of America to do his research on the site. There, he gained remarkable experience in the field of the Film Scenographic Stylization. That allowed him a solid background in the theory and practice of the subject matter. Following the completion of his Thesis in 1999, Bassim was seeking training in his chosen career of motion picture production, he was working as an independent Film Scenographer, for local broadcasting companies, and theaters, raising to the position of Supervisor Scenographer. His scenographical stylization for Oregon Public Broadcasting’s program “Seven Days” was broadcasted on the air for about five years. Currently, he is an active member of the Graphic Artist’s Guild of America, and presently seeking the membership of the United Scenic Artists Local 829.