The first 'Roman' film -1907 - Ben Hur - Sidney Olcott

The first cinematic adaptation of Lew Wallace’s novel Ben Hur (watch the first part above) is almost completely ruined by the abysmal quality of the film’s print. It is perhaps what those who have negative pre-conceptions of early silent film would expect from films from this era: the print is so poor that at times it is hard to decipher what action is taking place; it is the sort of copy that you might expect when you foolishly decide to buy a pirated DVD from a street vendor, only to find that the film has been recorded with a shoddy hand held camcorder.

However, given how much film has been lost from this era, we should be grateful for any surviving films, no matter how poor their quality is. Nevertheless, this is the first film that we have looked at from the forgotten decade (1904-1913) that does not appear to be of great significance (apart from one scene), from either a technical or aesthetic point of view.

The film’s greatest legacy is legal:

This movie is most notable as a precedent in copyright law. The movie was made without the permission of the author's estate, which was common practice at that time. The screenwriter, Gene Gauntier, remarked in her 1928 autobiography how the film industry at that time infringed upon everything. As a result of the production of Ben Hur, Harper & Brothers and the author's estate brought suit against Kalem Studios, the Motion Picture Patents Company, and Gauntier for copyright infringement. The United States Supreme Court ultimately ruled against the film company in 1911. This ruling established the precedent that all motion picture production companies must first secure the film rights of any previously published work still under copyright before commissioning a screenplay based on that work.

Given the recent spate of legal action being taken by the film industry taken against file-sharers, there is a certain degree of irony to the fact that the film industry was on the receiving end of legal action for copyright infringement in its infancy.

Returning to the film, even if the print were to be restored to its full glory, there is not much in the film to suggest that our perception of it would alter to a significant extent. This adaptation of Ben Hur appears to be a competent attempt at staging scenes from the film. I have seen several reviews of the film criticise its inability to follow the book’s plot, but given the fact that the film is eleven minutes long, such criticism misses the point.

We are about to look at several literary adaptations from this era (mostly from the works of Shakespeare and Dickens), and to dismiss all of these films simply because film technology has not allowed these works to be filmed unabridged would seem illogical. In fact, it is exciting to see which parts of the various works the director’s find to be the most cinematic and to what extent their decision making was correct. Limitations have never hindered great art; often, they enhance it.

On this occasion though, the film maker, a Canadian named Sidney Olcott, has emphasised the theatrical rather than the cinematic. The first half of the film feels as if it is a play is being filmed, and given the obvious fact that early films are silent and that there is a scarcity of explanatory titles, the only things on offer in this section of the film are the marvellous costumes.

The one exception to this criticism is the chariot race, which appears at the film’s denouement (watch the second part of the film above), and it is this section which warrants this film’s inclusion on this list. The speed with which the chariots fly past the camera highlights the audacious nature of the scene, nothing this daring had been attempted up until this point in cinematic history. The film successfully masks the fact that this section of the film was shot on a beach in New Jersey with fireman playing the roles of the charioteers and the horses that pulled their fire carts being used to pull the chariots.

Twelve years earlier, in the Lumiere Brothers’ Arrivee d'un train en gare a La Ciotat, a train gradually crawled its way into the centre of the shot, mesmerising and frightening contemporary audiences. Now, horses were flying past the camera at a blistering pace, symbolising the rapidity of film’s growth.

This scene alone does not justify the remainder of the film. But you cannot help admire Olcott’s attempt to create a film that may have beyond film’s capabilities at that particular point.. 

Slapstick is born - 1907 - Début d'un patineur (The Unskillful Skater) - Louis J. Gasnier

The cinematic development of slapstick comedy can be traced back to films such as Début d'un patineur. As Linder’s character flounders in his skates and later gets chased by a group of children who are far superior skaters than he is, the endless possibilities for this genre, particularly during the silent era, becomes readily apparent.

Even though it had been only a year since he filmed Le premier cigare d'un collegian, it is clear that Linder’s style and comedic timing had evolved. Despite the impressiveness of the latter film, Début d'un patineur is a better orchestrated and funnier film. Most importantly it makes better use of the visual medium.

Whereas Le premier cigare d'un collegian was based around the experience of Linder’s character smoking a cigar, which did not lend itself particularly well to visual comedy (although Linder did an excellent job of portraying the effects the cigar has on him), the decision to base this film around Linder’s character attempting to skate opens itself to a greater array of visual comedic possibilities.  

The opening shot of Début d'un patineur demonstrates the magnetic effect of Linder’s  Parisian boulevardier persona. The camera focuses on a pathway in a busy park as various Parisians walk by. As Linder wanders into the shot, even from a distance his languorous movements draws the audience in. From Méliès Voyage Dans La Lune to Tait’s The Story of the Kelly Gang, many of the movies of this era relied on an ensemble cast to portray the film’s storytelling. Linder though, somehow manages to create a persona that captivates his audience almost single-handedly.

As mentioned in the previous post on Linder, movement is crucial to the effectiveness of Linder’s persona. Whereas previously we admired the subtleties of Linder’s movement, on this occasion it is his crass movements, for example, as he first attempts to use the ice skates, which must be commended. And it is this form of physical action that lends itself ever so well to silent film. Such action rarely requires exposition and can thus exist independently of language. It is no coincidence that the silent films that have endured among mainstream modern viewers are usually Chaplin or Keaton films. 

Despite Linder’s character clearly having little idea of how to balance himself on his skates, the audience is always left with the impression that Linder the actor is in complete control of every action. One might suggest that this is giving Linder too much credit; however, the comic timing of Linder’s acrobatics are almost perfect, which suggests that he knew exactly what he was doing.

The decision to show the entire process of Linder’s journey, from entering the park up to attempting to skate, only adds to the humour of his skating antics. His character clearly stands out among the usual skaters, and the look of bemusement of the men renting the skates is shared by the audience. It is in these scenes where Linder’s brilliance truly shines. There is embellishment that does not slip into exaggeration, everything is measured.

Perhaps the highlight of the film is when a more experienced skater attempts to help him up and the two of them engage in an accidental dance. As good as Linder is when he is performing a comic routine by himself, his comic chemistry with this other character suggests that his finest moments in his future films will come when he is placed in such scenarios.  


Finally, the film also played a key historical role in regards to recognising the author of a film:

"Les Debut d'un patineur" (1907) is remarkable because Linder's confused snob appeared for the first time. When in his credits for the movie "Max et la doctoresse" appeared the following text: "written by Max Linder and played by the author". It was the first time in film history that there was mentioned an author in connection with a cinematic work.

Their is a delicious irony to this milestone - Linder was not yet a director! Which in turn asks important question about who actually authors a film, particularly in the case of a slapstick comedy. The fact that this post has not mentioned this film's director even once suggests that I agree with the crediting of this film. But in a broader context, the question of authorship becomes far more ambiguous.