As soon as the cinematograph had established itself firmly in popular favour, and there was every indication that it would become a permanent form of entertainment, it entered one field after another of popular interest. We have seen how the picture play was evolved from unrehearsed episodes in everyday life; and when the studio-stage became an indispensable acquisition to the picture play producer, another movement was created. This was the trick film. The pioneers realised that the intervals between the exposure of successive sections of film corresponding to an image offered extreme opportunities for the practice of chicanery, and the presentation of weird, fantastic, and mystifying effects.

The trick-film owes its inception to a well-known French prestidigitateur, Monsieur Mélies. He was among the first to embark upon the manufacture of film subjects, and it naturally occurred to him to impress magic into the service of the industry. His first attempts were of the simplest description. He confined himself to the performance before the camera of the same tricks that he offered an audience from behind the footlights.

Having by this means tested the public and found it responsive, he introduced all the devices known to the “Black Art.” Furniture danced upon the screen, and moved hither and thither about a room; skeletons gambolled capriciously; weird displays of “Black Magic” were shown; all sorts of inanimate objects were imbued with life; dolls and toy animals and birds were given the semblance of natural action. The films amused and mystified the public exceedingly, and the Mélies trick films enjoyed a remarkable vogue.

Meanwhile, Robert Paul in England had been considering the feasibility of the same idea, but had feared that the personality of the magician would be missed. Seeing the success of the Frenchman, he decided to embark upon a similar line of activity. He saw the possibility of producing far more startling effects than even the most accomplished and dexterous magician ever could hope to achieve. But the task bristled with difficulties. The stage had to be overhauled and equipped with elaborate devices to facilitate sudden disappearances, apparitions, etc. A workshop also was necessary for the preparation of the properties, and the character of the work rendered indispensable the services of an expert magician.

Cinematographic knowledge was in its infancy; and accordingly some of the methods used in the late nineties seem somewhat involved as compared with those practised to-day. But it was upon these early struggles and failures that the present adequate equipment was built up. Indeed, from the point of view of the audience many of these first films have never been surpassed.

To describe the methods adopted in the production of every trick picture is obviously impossible in the compass of this volume, but I am able, through the courtesy of Mr. Robert Paul, to explain how many of the strange effects in his most striking trick films were achieved. The processes most generally practised were the “stop-motion” and “double printing,” which are explained fully in the next chapter, but in addition to these methods he devised many others, some of which have been superseded by easier operations. For example, where gradual disappearances and appearances were desired, instead of using a rectilinear diaphragm stop in the lens as is now usual, Paul occasionally resorted to the chemical dissolution of the emulsion and image from the film—an intricate and delicate manipulation entailing considerable time and care, because if the dissolution process were carried too far or undertaken by unskilled hands, the film was spoiled and much labour fruitlessly expended.

Sometimes the desired result was brought about by means of two special detachable stops, which were placed in the lens. Each of these stops had a V-shaped opening of identical dimensions, and were set at right-angles to one another. As they were gradually drawn apart the aperture formed by the intersection of the V-openings through which the light passed to the film was enlarged, while, on the other hand, as they were moved towards one another, the aperture was decreased, until at last the film scarcely recorded any impression of the subject photographed. The gradual synchronous movement of these two V-shaped stops was somewhat difficult. To-day their place is taken by the rectilinear stop in the lens, whereby the same effect can be produced much more easily.

One of the best and most successful trick films Paul ever produced was the mediæval mystery entitled “The Magic Sword.” It appealed to the grown-up because of the astonishing effects introduced, and to the children for the reason that it provided an intimate glimpse of fairyland with its giants, witches, good and bad fairies, and other strange beings not encountered in this world. It was sumptuously produced, and many of the tricks were introduced to the public for the first time.

The first scene shows a gallant knight meeting his lady-love on the battlements of the castle at midnight; a ghost appears, towards which the knight advances, but it melts from his grasp. A witch rides over the dark sky on her broom, and the knight in turn endeavours to seize her, but she eludes his attack and departs, shaking her fist in rage. An ogre no less than fifteen feet tall thrusts his head and shoulders over the battlements, seizes the damsel and bears her off through the sky. The lover is in the depths of despair, but a good fairy comes to his aid, gives him a flaming sword, and bids him go in search of his lady-love.

The battlemented castle gradually dissolves into a witch’s cavern, to which the frightened lady is brought captive by the witch, and transformed into a second hag. Many adventures follow; finally the good fairy triumphs over evil, and the witch is converted into a roll of carpet, on which the lovers float through the air to fall from the sky upon the lady’s parents while they are banqueting in the castle grounds.

The trick effects in this film were produced almost entirely by double printing, two negative films being superimposed to make a positive. The accompanying illustration shows how the appearance of the ogre was obtained. The scene with the two principal players, the knight and the lady, first was acted and photographed upon one film. The sky was a neutral back-cloth with a crescent moon painted on it. Then the second film was prepared bearing the ghost, the witch, and the ogre respectively. The spectral effect of the ghost named was realistically conveyed by under-exposing the second film, so that the stone of the battlements could be distinguished plainly through the form of the figure. The ogre was an actor of ordinary height, but as he was photographed with a short-focus lens from a point nearer the object than the characters in the first scene, when the print was made he appeared to be more than twice as tall as the other performers. In this scene the wall over which he reached was covered with black cloth.

In order to get the effect of the witch riding in the sky, Paul invented a novel movement in the camera, which is now in general use in trick cinematography. The lens was arranged to be raised or lowered in relation to the area of film in the gate, but still independently of the film itself. This was done with a small gearing device whereby, when the gear handle was turned, the lens was moved upwards or downwards. The witch astride her broom stood upon the floor of the stage, which was covered with black cloth, against a background of similar material. By turning the gear handle of the lens attachment the latter was raised, until the witch riding on her broom was lifted to the upper corner of the film and there photographed. Although she simulated the action of riding through space in the traditional manner, in reality she merely moved across the black-covered floor of the stage.

The strange effects produced in the witch’s cave were obtained both by double printing and the “stop motion,” as well as by the manipulation of the stop in the lens. The conversion of the captured lady into a witch was accomplished by stopping the camera; and while the lens was covered by the shutter, introducing a second actress, already made up, who stepped into the position occupied by the lady, while the latter quickly left the stage. The other actors maintained a rigid position while the camera lens was closed and the substitution took place. The conversion of the witch into a roll of carpet was effected in a similar way. When the “stop” call was given the witch disappeared from the stage, and a roll of carpet took her place.

The journey of the lovers through space upon the magic carpet was carried out by the manipulation of the rising and falling lens already described. When the solution of the baffling trick is given it appears absurdly simple, but the elaboration of the idea entailed several weeks’ preparation, combined with hard thinking on the part of the producers, while the filming alone occupied several days.

Paul’s studio was excellently adapted to producing strange variations in stature. He could make a giant or Lilliputian at will. The camera was mounted upon a special trolley, which could be moved forwards and backwards in relation to the stage over a pair of rails similar to a railway track. The closer the camera was to the stage the larger were the figures. A photograph at a distance of fifteen feet presented people of normal height. But when the camera was advanced close to the stage the players photographed were of immense stature, an effect emphasised still further when one film was printed over the other.

By varying the distance between the camera and the stage Paul produced some delightful results. One picture was called “The Cheese Mites,” or “Lilliputians in a London Restaurant.” A traveller entered a café and took his seat before a window. When he had finished his meal the waiter brought him a mug of beer, out of which, to the intense surprise of the traveller, a little sailor about six inches in height climbed and executed a hornpipe on the diner’s plate. The sailor then went to the cheese, which was about his own height, and produced a lady therefrom. The sailor and the lass were engaged in an animated conversation when another little man appeared on the scene. The two men ultimately quarrelled and there was a spirited contest.

This introduction to modern Lilliput is simple to explain. On one film the diner and his actions were photographed, the camera being, say, fifteen feet distant. After this film was secured a second film was made of the Lilliputians, who, of course, were not midgets, but people of normal stature. They acted against a background of neutral tint; but the camera was set about 150 feet from the stage, and a long-focus lens was used. The consequence was that the figures appeared very tiny upon the second film, so that when the two films were superimposed for the purposes of printing the positive the contrast between the diner and the sailors was strangely impressive, the latter being no taller than the jug upon the table.

Some very astonishing results can be obtained by this superprinting operation, either straightforwardly or in combination with the variation in the photographic range as described in the previous paragraph. The soldier dying on the battlefield sees his home and mother in a dream which occupies the whole of one corner of the picture; there is the vision of Marley’s Ghost, and so on. One of the earliest of Paul’s simple trick subjects was a film illustrating the song “Ora Pro Nobis,” wherein the starving, ill-clad orphan was seen to sink in collapse in the snow outside the church door, the climax being the death of the waif and the descent of the angel to receive and bear her spirit heavenwards. This was effected purely by double printing, the ascending and descending action of the angel being carried out by means of the gear-operated falling and rising lens of the camera.

“The Haunted Curiosity Shop” was a well-executed and startling trick film. A floating skull was transformed into the bust of a charming lady, while the second half of the body walked in and attached itself to the upper half. The dealer attempted to grasp his strange visitor around the waist with a view to stealing a kiss, but to his disgust the fair damsel changed into a grinning negress. In anger he thrust her into an old wardrobe, where she became white again. The outline of the fair prisoner could be seen through the woodwork of the cupboard; changing first into an Egyptian mummy, then a living Egyptian, and next into a skeleton. The dealer made a lunge at the skeleton with a sword, but the weapon struck the breast-plate of a man in armour. The latter was then torn limb from limb, and the dismembered body was thrown into a huge jar, from which rose three gnomes, who finally resolved themselves into one. He was thrust back into the jar, and a dense cloud of smoke rose, from which the dealer fled in terror, while a large head appeared from the smoke and advanced towards the audience.

This picture was produced by recourse to “stop-motion” and double printing. The changes from white woman to negress, mummy, Egyptian, skeleton, and man in armour, were produced by substitution while the lens was closed by the shutter. The space indicated by the wardrobe was a recess having a black back-cloth, against which the skeleton was photographed, and which when the two negatives were superimposed was shown to be standing before the astonished dealer. The photographs of the girl were taken with the wardrobe doors open and well-exposed, so as to obtain a strong image, which could be seen through the other film showing the wardrobe doors closed. The dismemberment of the man in armour was carried out with properties, while the grotesque head was obtained by bringing the camera within a short distance of the stage so as to secure an enlarged photograph of an actor made up to suit the part.

“The (?) Motorist” was an extraordinary example of Paul’s handiwork. The effects were so startling and the situations so unconventional that the spectators were sorely puzzled as well as vastly entertained. The picture opens with a motorist and a lady entering a small two-seated car. They set off, but presently a policeman attempts to stop them. He is picked up and dropped over the back of the automobile. The motorist continues on his way, with the offended emissary of the law in pursuit. Presently a public-house bars the road, but the car, on reaching the obstruction, runs up the wall, to the dismay of a large crowd, and shoots into space. Without a pause it speeds over the clouds, visits the sun, which it circles calmly, and once more swinging into space runs over the clouds until it reaches Saturn. The ring round this planet constitutes an ideal motor track, around which the automobile rushes in mad glee. Finally it shoots off this unusual highway and drops through space, to crash into a court of justice. After striking terra firma in this unconventional manner, the car continues its journey out of the building, followed by policemen, magistrate, and other officials. To their amazement, however, just as they are about to arrest the delinquent it vanishes, leaving in its place a countryman’s cart, in which a smock-frocked farmer and his wife are seated. When the pursuers are at a safe distance, the cart changes back to the motor, and makes good its escape.

The point beyond the comprehension of the public was the journey of the motor across the clouds and round the sun and Saturn. It looked precisely as if the planets and the car were viewed through a telescope. To get this effect models were used. A suitable back-cloth was prepared painted with clouds, stars, the planets, etc. On the stage a large model was set up to represent Saturn with its ring. A small model of a motor-car was prepared, in which two dolls representing the motorist and his companion were placed, and propelled round the ring at increasing speed.

A model of the sun was suspended upon the stage before the back-cloth. The model of the car was attached to an arm, which was pivoted to the back of the sun, like a clock hand, so that the wheels of the model car rested on the circumference of the model of the planet. This was revolved, thereby swinging the motor-car round and round, conveying the impression that the car was travelling round the sphere under its own power. For the journey through the clouds the model of the car was photographed against a back-cloth. The idea of falling through space was conveyed by the manipulation of the rising and falling lens. The success of this novel trick film prompted many imitations. Working with models, however, is by no means a simple operation, because, unless they are prepared and manipulated very skilfully, the deception is palpable.

Another of Paul’s films was the representation of a railway collision. The scene represented a single railway line threading mountainous country. A goods train came in sight and overshot the danger signal. An attempt was made to back the train, but before it could reach safety an express dashed from the tunnel ahead and crashed into the stationary train, precipitating a scene of wreckage. Carriages, locomotives, and goods wagons were hurled down the embankment and piled upon one another by the force of the impact. Many people who saw this film marvelled at Paul’s good fortune in being on the scene to photograph such a disaster. They were convinced that it was genuine. As a matter of fact, the scene of the accident was a field, in which the scenery was erected with considerable care, and a long length of model railway track was laid down, while the trains were good toy models. The film only measured forty feet, as it was designed originally for the kinetoscope; but its popularity was so complete that it was adopted extensively for the cinematograph. Certainly it produced forty of the most thrilling seconds it is possible to conceive, for the disaster was perfect in its swiftness and wreckage; and the cinematograph film images being less sharp and decisive than those obtained by a hand camera, the illusion was conveyed very convincingly.

Scores of trick pictures of infinite variety were produced by Mr. Robert Paul during his active connection with the cinematograph industry. In common with other producers of trick films, Paul found that the time involved in their production was out of all proportion to the financial results. It was no uncommon circumstance for a subject approximating 100 feet in length to absorb a week or more of continuous work. Moreover, his most successful subjects were seized by American houses and “duped”—as unauthorised reproduction is called in cinematographic parlance in that country: no copyright law existed on the subject. Some of the subjects thus exploited met with a phenomenal success, from which he never received the slightest benefit or even recognition.