Volume 9 Number 1 Winter 1984 Editors Associate Editor Editorial Board Conference Editor Archives Editor Book Review Editor QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STU Ronald Gottesman, University of Southern Beverle Houston, | University of Southern Regina Fadiman Dudley Andrew Bernard Dick David Bordwell Raymond Fielding Nick Browne* Harry M. Geduld Leo Braudy James Goodwin* Henry Breitrose Lewis Jacobs Robert Carringer Stanley Kauffmann Stanley Cavell Marsha Kinder David Cook Katherine S. Kovacs* E. Ann Kaplan Rutgers University Robert Rosen UCLA Film, Television and Radio Archives Albert J. LaValley University of California, Santa Barbara DIES California California Jay Leyda Stephen Mamber* Gerald Mast Joan Mellen Gerald O'Grady Vlada Petric Stanley Solomon Amos Vogel Richard Whitehall* *Executive Committee REDGRAVE PUBLISHING COMPANYToward A History of Screen Practice Charles Musser Starting points always present problems for the historian, perhaps because they imply a “before” as well as an “after.” For the film historian “the invention of cinema’ is viewed customarily as the creation of a new form of expression, a new art form, To start from this perspective presupposes not only cinema proper but “precinema,” an area of historical inquiry which raisesa number of ideo- logical and methodological issues. My purpose in this article is to question the value of this starting point and the historical models which support it. | do not wish to forsake starting points entirely nor, as does Jean-Louis Comolli, offer the possibility of so many starting points that the notion of starting points is not only diffused but ultimately avoided. Rather | am suggesting an alternate beginning which places cinema within a larger context of screen history. Ahistory of screen practice presents cinema asa continuation and transformation of magic lantern traditions in which showmen displayed images on a screen, accompanying them with voice, music and sound effects. This historical conception of cinema was frequently articulated between 1895 and 1908. The Optical Magic Lantern Journal of November 1896, for example, observed that “The greatest boom the lantern world has ever seen is that which is still reverberating throughout the land—the boom of living photographs.”? In Ani- mated Pictures (1898), C, Francis Jenkins wrot It has frequently been suggested that the introduction of chronophotographic appa- ratus sounded the death knell of the stere~ opticon, but with this opinion. do not agree. The fact is, the moving picture machine is simply a modified stereopticon or lantern, i.e..a lantern equipped with a mechanical slide changer. All stereopticons will, sooner or later, as are several machines now, be arranged to project stationary pictures or pictures giving the appearance of objects in motion3 ‘These observations were echoed by Henry V. Hopwood in Living Pictures (1899): “A film for projectinga living picture isnothing more, afterall, than a multiple lantern slide.”* These writers were emphasizing continuities where recent film histo- ries have tended to see only difference. It is this60 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STUDIES / Winter 1984 sense of continuity which must be reasserted if we are to establish a dialectics of transformation The origins of screen practice —as distinct from ‘cameras or images — can be traced back to the demystification in the mid 1900s of magical art in which observers confused the “lifelike” image for itself. The much later invention of motion pic~ ture projection was only one of several major tech- nological innovations which transformed screen practice in the course of its history. Other major innovations include the development of the magic lantern during the 1650s, the adaptation of photog- raphy to projection ca, 1850, and the synchroniza- tion of film with recorded sound which achieved permanent commercial standing in the late 1920s. Such a historical model is different from those currently being used in important respects. Most histories of cinema and precinema isolate phenom ena on several different levels, treating these discretely and successively rather than simultane~ ously and dialectically (often. but not always by making use of a biological metaphor). They focus onthree different levels of inquiry. First there isthe history of precinema which, as presented by Jacques Deslandes and Kenneth MacGowan, has been a detailed history of invention formulated, | would argue, in terms of,and based on, court cases over patent rights. It is bourgeois history, par excellence, initially formulated by lawyers arguing the fine points of technological priority for their client industrialists. This phase culminates with the invention of the “basic apparatus,” the camera/ projector which made cinema possible. With the advent of cinema, these histories then shift to a history of technique, the invention of basic proce- dures such as the interpolated close-up and paral- lel editing (many of these procedures were part of the screen repertoire before cinema came into existence). Only in the third stage do these histori- ans focus their attention on film as art, as culturally significant work. This three-stage historical treatment offers a kind of technological determinism in which lan- guage is a product of technology and film art exists within the framework of that language. This new model for screen history, in contrast, is concerned with practice and praxis, Screen practice always has a technological component, a repertoire of repre- sentation strategies and a cultural function—all of which are undergoing constant interrelated change. This approach refines a second historical model which is concerned with film in relation to other forms of cultural expression. This second model argues that film began as a new medium/techno!- ogy in need of acontent and an aesthetic. In early, methodologically crude studies like Robert Grau’s The Theatre of Science and Nicholas Vardac’s Stage to Screen, itis argued that cinema was avoid that adopted the essentials of theatrical traditions and then pushed them to new extremes in the “photoplay.” More recently, Robert Allen's work has foregrounded the film/vaudeville connection. John Fell, elaborating on a position articulated by Erwin Panofsky, argues that film borrowed freely from many different forms of popular culture including comicstrips, dime novels, popular songs, the magic lantern and theatre. In the nature (technology) vs. nurture (cultural context) debate, they have emphasized the cultural determinants. The continuity of cultural signification in screen practice offers an alternative to such tabula rasa assumptions. At the same time, moments of pro- found transformation (like the adaptation of pho- tographic slides of Edison’s moving pictures to the screen) allow for new possibilities, for an influx of new personnel, and for disruption and consider- able discontinuity.The screen enters a period of flux and is particularly receptive to new influences from other cultural forms. At such moments its cultural interconnectedness becomes more appar- ent and perhaps important. During periods of comparative stability the screen continues o func- tion in profound relation to other cultural forms but because the nature of these connections does not change so drastically, they appear less obvious orare taken as givens. A history of screen practice can offer a more fruitful model for analyzing those cultural borrowings which Fell and others rightly see as key. Such influences, however, already existed before there was cinema. Cinema did notMUSSER / Toward a History of Screen Practice emerge out of the chaos of various borrowings to find its true or logical self. It is part of a much longer, dynamic tradition which has undergone repeated transformations in its practice and be- come increasingly central within a changing cultur- al system. Ahistory of the screen is notin itself new. Histo- rians such as Olive Cook have argued the case of, Hopwood and the Optical Magic Lantern Journal— that cinema is an extension of the magic lantern. They do so, unfortunately, by arguing that the invention of the magic lantern is the crucial tech~ nological innovation and so the appropriate start- ing point. Such a starting point, however, is onto- logically no different than the invention of cinema privileged in most histories. Both begin with a technology, not with a cultural practice. They see the technology determining practice not as a component part of this practice. Here the work and texts of Athanasius Kircher (1601-1680), a German-born Jesuit priest and scientist, prove to be crucial. A proper reading of his texts makes it clear that the ways in which screen technology was used in practice were more important than the technology itself. Furthermore, it was this practice which provided a framework in which technologi- cal innovation became possible. While recent research has clearly shown that Kircher did not invent the magic lantern, his Ars magna lucis et umbrae still occupies a privileged place at the start of thescreen’s history,’ In the first edition of Ars magna (1646), Kircher described a “catoptric lamp” which he used to “project” “reflect” might be the more accurate verb} images onto a wall in a darkened room. While this lamp was an improvement over earlier devices of a sim- ilar nature, Kircher’s improvements were lessimpor- tant than his militant stance toward the demystifi- cation of the projected image. He laid out the apparatus for all (at least all who had access to his book) to see, not only through description but by lustration. He also urged practitioners (exhibi- tors) to explain the actual process to audiences so that these spectators would clearly understand that the show wasa catoptric nota magical art. Kircher’s 61 argument suggests a decisive starting point for screen practice when the observer of projected/ reflected images became the historically consti- tuted subject we now call the spectator. The his- tory of the prescreen is therefore concerned with the period before this demystification took place, the period when projecting apparati were used to manipulate the unsuspecting spectator with mys- terious, magical images. Kircher actually offers a historical section in Ars magna which isa history of the prescreen as thus defined. He points out that when such an instrument was used in the times of King Solomon, the rabbis thought it was magic. Kircher adds, “We've read of this art in many histo- ries in which the common multitudes look on this catoptricart to be the working of the devil.” Again and again he warns his readers that in the past these techniques produced “such wonderful spec- tacle that even those considered philosophers were not infrequently brought under suspicion of being magicians.”® Since someone practicing the devil’s art might suffer torture and a slow death, such accusations were not to be taken lightly. Kircher’s text indicates that the revelation of the technical base of projection to the audience was a necessary condition of screen entertainment. The instrument for projection had to be inscribed within the mode of production itself. With this inscription projected images did not appear as magic but “art.” Images were subsequently de- scribed as life-like, not as life itself. This demystfi- cation, moreover, cannot be assumed. Magicians into the 19th century often denounced mediums who used projected images, concealing theirsource and claiming these images were apparitions, It remained an underlying concern of early cinema with its new level of technical illusionism, R.W. Paul's The Countryman’s First Sight of the Ani- mated Pictures (1901) and Edwin Porter's Uncle Josh at the Moving Picture Show (1902) spoof the country rube who lacks the cultural framework needed to distinguish an image from real life Thescreen’s beginnings occurred within aperiod of profound transformation of western culture and society, particularly in Holland (where Huygens62 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STUDIES / Winter 1984 ‘Magic lantern from the second edition of Kircher’s Ars magna (1671). Note the improper position of the lens, lack of a mirror and the non-inversion of the slide.MUSSER/ Toward a History of Screen Practice was working) and England. As Christopher Hill argues, the English Revolution of the 1640s marked the end of the Middle Ages in key areas of English social, economic and cultural life, The resulting political and social structure was much more open to and even encouraged capitalist production. Accompanying this development was an intellec- tual revolution which led from authority toward rationalism.? While the emergence of the screen as a form of entertainment came out of social and cultural changes often referred to as the 17th cen- tury scientific revolution, it was not merely the rapid progress made in science and technology which made this emergence possible. As belief in ghosts declined, as witchburnings began to cease, the logic and effectiveness of projecting apparati as instruments of mystical terror also receded. The demystiication of the screen established a relationship between producer, image and audi- ence which has remained fundamentally unal- tered until today. Kircher's own description of his primitive (yet amazingly elaborate!) catoptric lamp. suggests ways in which continuities of screen prac- tice can be traced to the present day—even though the means and methods of production have been radically altered, The illustration accom- panying Kircher’s text shows how images were “projected” into a darkened room. Words or other images were etched or painted upside down and backwards onto a mirror. A lenticular glass or lens was placed between the mirror and the wall on which the image was to be thrown. The sun usually provided the necessary illumination, although Kircher claimed that artificial light could be used if necessary. Several catoptric lamps could be used at the same time, presenting both writing and repre- sentational images on the wall independently yet simultaneously. The images were colored—using, transparent paints (to “increase the audience’s astonishment”). Theater-like scenes also could be made incorporating movement. Kircher suggested: Out of natural paper make effigies or images of things that you want to exhibit according to their shape, commonly their profile, so 63 that by the use of hidden threads you can make their arms and legs go up and down and apart in whatever way you wish. Having fastened these shapes on the surface of the mirror it will work as before, projecting the reflected light along with the shadow of the image in a dark place.” Kircher offered other ways to show moving images: “if you wish to show live flies, smear honey on the ‘or and behold how the flies will be projected on the wall through the surface of the mirror with extraordinary size.” Finally objects could be moved using a magnet behind the mirror. Already Kircher emphasized the combination of words and images, the use of color and movement, the possibility of narrative, and that special relation ship between theater and the screen which con- tinues until today. While the manner in which these fundamental elements were used as well as the technology which produced them changed radically over the following three hundred years, their existence within the repertoire of screen entertainment did not. The inaccuracies generally found in film histo- ries which discuss the magic lantern’s origins should come to an endas information presented in H. Mark Gosser’s thoroughly researched article on the subject is taken into account. By 1659, the Dutch scientist Christiaen Huygens had developed a simple “lanterne magique.” His key innovation substituted images painted on glass for those etched on mirrors. Instead of the sun reflecting, light off the image surface, an artificial lightsource was used to shine directly through the glass. Although Huygens sketched some skeletons as possible images for projection, he did not exploit the magic lantern for its commercial possibilities. ‘This was first done by Thomas Walgensten, a Dan- ish teacher and lens grinder who lived in Paris, during the 1660s, There he developed his own magic lantern and, by 1664, gave exhibitions. Wal- gensten subsequently traveled through Europe presenting lantern shows to royalty in Lyons (1655), Rome (mid to late 1660s) and Copenhagen (1670).64 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STUDIES / Winter 1984 Kircher, in the second edition of Ars magna (1671), described Walgensten’s “magic or thauma- turgic lantern” and attempted to illustrate it. Kircher maintained that his own catoptric lamp was the equal of Walgensten’s magic lantern: it could “display in life-like colors all that they are accustomed to show with (Walgensten’s) mobile lamp” and “show the same images even when there is no sunlight through a concave mirror..." He further insisted that his own shows were actu- ally preferred by audiences. The main difference between the two was “only” the technology.'* ‘When Kircher described the new magic lantern technology in the second edition of Ars magna, he was much less concerned with the demystification of projected images and much more concerned with issues of narrative. Referring to his own use of the catoptric lamp, Kircher wrote, “at our college we are accustomed to exhibiting new pictures to the greatest wonder of the audience. Indeed, it is most worthwhile seeing, for with its aid whole satiric scenes, theatrical tragedies and the like can be shown in a lifelike way.” The magic lantern, however, performed these same tasks more effi- ciently: it became much easier for the exhibitor to present a succession of images which could be used for storytelling purposes. With the magic lantern, a long glass slide containing eight discrete scenes could be passed between the light source and the lens, one image at a time as in the Ars ‘magna illustration. The enlarged images appeared on the screen: “whence it is obvious,” according to Kircher, “that if you have four or five such paral- lelograms, each of which repeats different images, you can display whatever you wish in a dark room."6 Telling a story with a series of images had many precedents including illustrated books and wall paintings. These provided suitable models for early screen practitioners. Even at these early stages, the screen was used to present two quite different types of material. If Kircher enjoyed presenting satirical scenes and theatrical tragedies, his fellow Jesuit Andreas Tacquet used a catoptric lamp to give an illustrated lecture about a missionary’s trip to China.” Fictional narratives and documentary- like programs were part of the screen’s repertoire from the outset. ‘Although Kircher has been criticized for not emphasizing the differences between the magic lantern and his own catoptric lamp, he may not have fully realized the implications of this new technology. He probably lacked the first-hand experience with the magic lantern which might have convinced him that the Huygens and Wal- gensten apparati were much more flexible, effi cient and inexpensive than his own.1® The magic lantern liberated screen practitioners from the elaborate set-upsand specialized rooms of Kircher’s college or other select sites. At the same time, certain effects that Kircher achieved with his catoptric lamp were no longer possible with Wal- gensten’s magic lantern (the magnet technique, the use of live flies). Like later technological improvements, this one not only created new pos- sibilities it eliminated old ones. ‘The magiclantern provided a technological leap which made possible a new era of traveling exhibi- tors of whom Walgensten was the first example. ‘Walgensten not only traveled with his lantern but, according to Kircher, sold a number of similar apparati to Italian princes. After the initial novelty period, however, the magiclantern quickly passed from the hands of royalty into those of common showmen. These exhibitors were soon touring Europe, presenting their entertainments at fairs—a pattern of exhibition which continued into the 20th century. The history of screen entertainment between Kircher and Lumigre has interested mainly anti- quarians and collectors."® While many of these people have been doing serious research in their chosen area, they generally lack a methodological framework comparable to those being developed by many film historians interested in the pre~ Griffith cinema. The following sketch attempts to place the magic lantern era of screen entertain- ment within an analytical framework Ihave used to ‘examine the institution of cinema between 1896 and 1909. It pays particular attention to the role ofMUSSER / Toward a History of Screen Practice the exhibitor whose diverse functions (except his capacity as a businessman) are usually ignored in film histories. During the 1890s most cinematic ‘operations now performed at the post-production stage were executed by exhibitors in the projec- tion booth or by personnel performing in relation tothe projected image (lecturer, musicians, sound effect specialists, etc.). Their activities were not naive gropings but continued screen practices developed over the preceding two hundred years. Thus the clarification of the exhibitor’s creative role during the magic lantern era will make iteasier to see the continuities of screen practice during the 1890s and at other moments when new tech- nology is introduced. This historical model is much more concerned with practice (methods of pro- duction, modes of representation) than with iso- lated cultural objects (films, lantern slides). ‘An emerging capitalism had little apparent use for the magic lantern during the first hundred years after its invention. Olive Cook’s research suggests that many 18th century lantern shows presented versions of miracle plays that were many centuries old. This emergent form kept alive a folk culture which was marginalized by those very changes within society which paradoxically had made possible screen entertainments, It was only in revolutionary France that the screen's possibilities were first effectively exploited —both ideologically and commercially—by the newly victorious bourgeoisie, in particular by Etienne Gaspar Robert (Robertson). Robertson was giving Fantasmagorie (magiclantern) perform- ances at the Pavillion de U’Echiquier in Paris by 7797, at the highpoint of the revolution. Three years later he began to present his shows at a former Capuchin convent. Robertson’s exhibitions reflected the anti-clerical outlook of the revolution yet exploited the Capu- chin convent's residual associations of sacredness to create a mood of uneasy fear in the spectators who filed through a series of narrow passageways into the main chapel where the exhibitions took place. By showtime “everybody had a serious, almost mournful expression on their face and 65 spoke only in whispers.”#" Robertson then appear- ed and directed some preliminary remarks to his audience: ‘That which is about to happen before your eyes, messieurs, is not frivolous spectacle; it is made for.the man who thinks, for the philosopher who likes to lose his way for an instant with Sterne among the tombs. This is a spectacle which man can use to instruct himself in the bizarre effects of the imagination, when it combines vigor and derangement: | speak of the terror inspired by the shadows, spirits, spells and occult work of the magician: terror that practically every man experienced in the young age of prejudice and which even afewstill retain in the mature age of reason. ‘After Robertson's extended speech was completed, the lights were doused and the mood heightened still further by sound effects (rain, thunder, and a clock sounding the death toll). An apparition appeared and approached the spectators until they were ready to scream —when it disappeared. ‘This was followed by aseries of sad, serious, comic, gracious and fantastic scenes (the adjectives are Robertson's). Some pandered to the audience’s political sentiments. In one, Robespierre left his tomb, wanting to return to life (as the sans-culottes had wished he could soon after his execution). Lightning struck and reduced the “monster” and his tomb to powder. After the elimination of this “spectre of the left,” images of the cherished dead were shown: Voltaire, Lavoisier, J.J. Rousseau and other heroes of the bourgeoisie.” Magic was secu- larized and turned into a source of entertainment with a church functioning as an exhibition site in this “age of reason.” Robertson’s exhibitions established an adult, urban sophisticated audience for theatrical lantern entertainments. The industrial revolution begun in England and the political revolution of France insured the rapid spread of similar productions. Robertson later complained that his many imita~66 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STUDIES / Winter 1984 tors presented their shows across Europe without offering him financial compensation. Paul de Phi- lipsthal gave Phantasmagoria performances in London from October 1801 through April 1803, then in Edinburgh. Similar exhibitions were given in the United States after 1803. Fantasmagorie/Phantasmagoria exhibitors devel- oped elaborate methods for creating effects and motion, Slides were projected from behind the screen, with several different lanterns used simul- taneously to produce a composite image. A large stationary lantern often projected a background in which figures projected from smaller lanterns could move. Operators of these small lanterns roamed about behind the screen, changing the relative size and position of their image. Elaborate coordination and skilled technicians were needed to give a successful exhibition. In contrast, glass images for such exhibitions could be produced by a solitary painter. These production methods are almost the reverse of modern screen entertain ments where exhibition requires one (largely unskilled) projectionist but production requires the collaboration of many skilled artists and tech- nicians. Atthe beginning of the 19th century, each show was unique, having much in common with a dramatic performance. By the beginning of the sound era, screen exhibitions were completely standardized, How these production practices were transformed during the 1800-1930 period is a cru- cial issue of screen history. The development of photography did not give lanternists immediate access to projected photo- graphic images: they had to wait for the develop- ment of the collodion process, invented by Freder- ick Archer in 1848/49, This new photographic technique was quickly adapted to the stereoscope, a viewing instrument that creates the illusion of depth from two pictures of an object, each taken from a slightly different perspective. In 1850, the stereoscope was the focus of scientific and intellec- tual interest. In many instances the two adjacent images were transferred onto ground glass so the spectator could hold them up to the light. The Langenheim brothers of Philadelphia began to cut these double images in half and project individual slides with a magic lantern. From the outset, many of these photographic slides were tinted. Since stereoscopic slides were so frequently used in the magic lantern, Americans often called the projec- tor of photographic slides a “stereoptican.’ The use of photographic slides for projection grew in popularity after the late 1870s with the introduction of factory-coated gelatin plates, This development (along with corresponding advances in lithography) fundamentally transformed the methods of slide production. Multiple images were not only possible but much cheaper to pro- duce. For the first time an essential part of screen entertainments became standardized. The photographic and lithographic production of slides was part of the industrial revolution in terms of its new methods. Increasingly production and exhibition became specialized, independent branches of an industry and their relations charac terized by the maturing system of capitalism. Although screen practices varied significantly, all methods shared certain underlying characteristics. Inits simplest form, manufacturers produced neg- atives or lithographic masters from which they could make large quantities of slides. Exhibitors often bought these slides individually, frequently relying on more than one source of supply. These slides were then arranged in an order and pre- sented to an audience accompanied by a lecture. This was how John Stoddard worked for many years until he began to hire local photographers to take special views which he needed and he alone could use. In the eyes of the spectator, the exhibi- tor not theslide producer was the author. Itwas his art the newspapers reviewed.” Lanternists also explored new methods of repre- sentation which were made possible or practical by the introduction of photography. Before the ster- eopticon, the screen had been associated pri- marily with mystery and magic. Even in the “age of reason,” the Phantasmagoria was supposed to create the terror of a less rational time. In the minds of a growing group of lanternists the appli- cation of photography to projection provided theMUSSER / Toward a History of Screen Practice lantern with a new scientific basis. Photographic slides not only enhanced the lifelike quality of the screen image but offered a much more accurate reflection of reality. Part of the stereopticon’s “objectivity” excluded phantasmagoria procedures such as the creation of a composite image using multiple lanterns dollying behind the screen. In- stead the search for movement using photograph- ic techniques was directed toward scientific solu- tions based on the illusion of movement and the “persistence of vision.” Surviving documentation, some as early as 1860, indicates that in the sequencing of photographic views, practitioners were often preoccupied with the creation of a spatial world.® As travel lectures became more elaborate, they often situated the traveler/photographer within the diegetic space ‘of a narrative, Spatial relations between the slides —such as cut-ins, exterior/interior, point-of-view and shot/counter shot—became codified within the context of this travel genre. Edward Wilson’s lectures from the mid-1870s to the mid-1880s indi- cate frequent dissolves from exterior to interior and continued spatial references on a reduced scale: “we are looking in the opposite direction from our last picture” is a typical remark» The later travel lectures of John Stoddard, who was active in the 1880s and 1890s, include shots of the traveler/lecturer in his conveyance. These shots were intercut with scenes of the countryside through which he was traveling, The spectator saw Stoddard in his railway car, then saw what he had seen out the window. Such connections between images were usually made explicit through the lecture. During the second half of the 19th century, the lanternists’ preoccupation with the faithful dupli- cation of reality and the creation of a seamless spatial world remained limited as disparate repre- sentational techniques were routinely juxtaposed in the course of a program. As with many other forms of popular entertainment, the screen often relied on strategies inimical to the principles of 9th century naturalism, Lithographic and photo- graphic slides were often integrated into the same 67 program. In travel lectures like John Stoddard’s exhibition on Japan, actuality material and studio photographed artifice were combined in the same sequence.” In some cases the synthesis of different mimetic strategies occurred within the same slide. Slide producers.often placed actors against sets which combined real objects and objects painted on the backdrop. Sometimes the actor was shot against a white background and the milieu subse- quently drawn in. In evaluating films like those of George Méliés or Edwin Porter's The Finish of Brigit. McKeen, historians often have criticized them fora theatricality foreign to cinema's “proper” ontology. But these representational strategies were a continuation of earlier screen traditions rather than wholesale invasion of methods utilized by the theater. When motion pictures were first projected in 1895, they were considered a screen novelty. By 1897-8, however, cinema had been reintegrated into screen practice, Such continuity is most ob- viously manifested by the combination of films and slides in standard forms of exhibition between 1897 and 1906. The Eden Musée’s Passion Play films were routinely combined with slides to provide an ‘evening's entertainment. * Burton Holmes inte- grated films and tinted photographic slides into a documentary-like program by 1898 and continued this practice for many years.’5 C. Francis Jenkins cited at least one early example of adding films to an Alexander Black type of picture play which used stereopticon slides to tell a fictional story* This play-like drama depicted a “bicycle court- ship” using magic lantern slides. The bicycle gave the two lovers the mobility and privacy necessary for their private romance. The couple is soon mar- ried and on a honeymoon voyage before settling down to daily life. The narrative ends with a one- shot film of a husband waking up to take care of the baby and stepping on a tack.2” These and sim- ilar examples underscore the necessity of looking at cinema not as films (as objects) but as part of a practice which has a much longer history.2® If this article has emphasized continuities of screen practice, itis only to show more clearly that68 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM STUDIES / Winter 1984 the introduction of moving pictures raised new issues, created new problems for its practitioners. While spatial relations and synthetic representa- tional strategies were screen strategies before and after the introduction of cinema, cinema made temporality a key issue, a new possibility which had to be confronted. Although the exhibitor’s tradi- tional role and status at first continued, itwas soon transformed in response to the technological in- novation of moving pictures. Charles Musser is Film Historian for the Thomas Edison Papers. His documentary, “Before the Nickelodeon,” was shown recently at the New York, Berlin, and London film festivals. He is curat- ing a traveling show, “American Films (1894-1915) from American Archives,” with Jay Leyda, for the American Federation of the Arts. NOTES 1. Jean-Louis Comolli, “Technique and Ideology: Camera, Perspective, Depth of Field,” in Film Reader 2 (Evanston, Il Northwestern University, 1977), pp. 128-140 2. The Optical Magic Lantern Journal, 7:90 (November 1696), p. 199. 3. C. Francis Jenkins, Animated Pictures (Washington, D.C. By the author, 1898), p. 100. 4, Henry V. Hopwood, Living Pictures: Their History, Photoduplication and Practical Working (London: Opti- cian and Photographic Trades Review, 1699) 5, Jacques Deslandes, Histoire comparée du cinéma, 2 vols, (Brussels: Castermann,1966-); Kenneth MacGowan, Behind the Screen (New York: Delacorte Press, 1965}. 6.John Fell, Film and the Narrative Tradition (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1974); Erwin Panofsky, “style and Medium in'the Moving Pictures,” in Daniel Talbot, ed,, Film: An Anthology (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1959), pp. 15-32. 7, Athanasius Kircher, Ars magna lucis et umbrae (Rome, 1646; 2d rev. ed., Amsterdam, 1671). All transla- tions, however, are made from the second revised edi- tion of 1671 which included new sections with the old ‘ones. Translations are by Barbara Hurwitz. 8. Kircher (1671), pp. 792-94. 9. Christopher Hill, Reformation to Industrial Revolu- tion (London: Weidenfield & Nicolson, 1967; Reprint, Penguin Books, 1969). 410. Kircher (1671), pp. 792-94. 11. Ibid 12H. Mark Gosser, “Kircher and the Lanterna Magica— ‘AReexamination,” Journal ofthe Society of Motion Pic: ture and Television Engineers 90 (October 1981), 972-78. 1B. Kircher (1671), pp.768-70. 14. Its important to note that Kircher did not invent the catoptric lamp but expanded upon apparati pre- viously constructed by others. See Gosser, “Kircher,” p. 972. 45. Kircher (1671), pp. 768-70. 16. Ibid. 7. Gosser, p. 975. 48. Kircher’s illustrations of the magic lantern in his 1671 edition have the lens incorrectly placed between the lightsource and the glassslides. The slides arealso not flipped. Such shortcomings suggest that his first-hand knowledge was extremely limited and perhaps non- existent. However, the 1671 edition was printed in Am- sterdam, not Rome (where Kircher lived}, s0 the errors may be mistakes of the engraver. 19, The only journals currently printing articles and information about this era of screen entertainment are ML Bulletin (Solon, Ohio: Magic Lantern Society of the United States and Canada) and another journal pub- lished by the British Magic Lantern Society 20, Olive Cook, Movement in Two Dimensions (Lon- don: Hutchinson and Co., 1963), p. 62. 21. Etienne] Glaspar] [Robert] Robertson, Mémoires écréaifs, scientifiques, et anecdotiques vol. 1 (Paris: Cher auteur et Librarie de Wurtz, 1831), p. 278. 22. Ibid., 1, 278-79. 2B, Ibid. 1, 283-04. 24, Erik Barnouw, The Magician and the Cinema (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981), p. 22. 25. Louis Walton Sipley, “The Magic Lantern,” Penn- sylvania Arts and Sciences (December 1936), 39-43; Louis Walton Sipley, “W. and F. Langenheim-Photographers’ Pennsylvania Arts and Sciences (1932), 25-31; LJ. Marcy, The Sciopticon Manual. Explaining Marcy's New Magic Lantern and Light, Including Lantern Optics, Experi- ments, Photographing and Coloring Slides, Et., Sth ed. (Philadelphia: Sherman and Co., 1874), p. 52 26, D. Crane Taylor, John 1, Stoddard: Traveler, Lec- turer, Literaturer (New York, 1935), p. 126 27."*Stoddard on Napoleon,” Philadelphia Record, 25 April 1896.MUSSER / Toward a History of Screen Practice 28. Particularly the work of Coleman Sellers with his Kinematoscope (1861), Hey!'s Phasmatrope (1870), Louis Ducos’s experiments in France during the 1860sand Ead- weard Muybridge’s Zoopraxiscope. 23, For instance, William Despard Hemphill, Stere- scopic Ilustrations of Clonmel and the Surrounding ‘Countryside (Dublin: William Curry and Company, 1860) 30. Edward Wilson, “How They Live in Egypt,” Wilson's Lantern Journey's vol. 3 (Philadelphia: By the author, 1674-1886), p. 215 31. John L. Stoddard, John L. Stoddard’s Lectures vol 7 (Boston: Balch Brothers, 1897-98), pp. 226-68, presents his lecture for Mexico and isa particularly good example of this, 32. Ibid, 3, 120-38, 33, In “Categories of Art” The Philosophical Review, 74 (1970), 334-367, Kendall Walton offers criteria for cate- gorization which when applied to this combination slide/{ilm exhibition format, provides a compelling argu- ‘ment fora history ofthe screen, Walton asks,"Howisitto bbe determined in which category a work is correctly perceived?” He suggests four categories which allow one to perceive correctly a work, W, ina given category, C: 1. The presence in W of a relatively large number of features standard with respect toC. The correct, way of perceiving a work is likely to be that in which it has a minimum of contra-standard fea- tures for us 2. The fact, if itis one, that W is better, or more interesting or pleasing aesthetically, or more worth ‘experiencing when perceived in € than itis when. perceived in alternative ways. 3. The fac, itis one, thatthe artist who produced Wintended or expected itto be perceived in C, or thought of itas C. 4. The fact, ifitis one, that Cis well-established in and recognized by the society in which W was produced. A category is well-established in and recognized by a society if the members of the society are familiar with works in that category, consider a work's membership in it worth men- tioning, exhibit works of that category together 69 and so forth—that is roughly if that category fig- ures importantly in their way of classifying works of art If the historian argues for two separate categories, and so two separate histories, the history of the magic lan tern/stereopticon and the history of cinema, he can argue that late 19th century programs which combined both elements were either mixed media or should be classified a5 a lantern or cinema show depending on which predominated. The option of a “mixed media” is unsatisfactory if criteria #3 and #4 are used. Obviously, exhibitors and their audiences distinguish between sides and film, but the perceived relation was that of the cate~ gory sculpture to a special sub-category like kinetic sculpture rather than sculpture to painting. The second option, based on a preponderance of material, also fails when compared to a category which embraces both slides and film using Walton's first criteria: there are too many contra-standard elements, The decisive reason for advocating a history of the screen is Walton’s second, criteria: a works more interesting and more worth expe- riencing when perceived in this manner than it is when perceived in alternate ways 134, See Charles Musser, “The Eden Musee in 1898: The Exhibitor as Creator,” Film and History (December 1961), 73-83. 38, Burton Holmes, Programs, 1698-198 (Burton Holmes International, Hollywood, California). Courtesy, Burton Holmes international. 36. Jenkins, Animated Pictures, pp. 100-101. 37-See Burnes t, Patrick Hollyman, “Alexander Black's Picture Plays, 1893-1894,” in ed,, John Fell, ilm Before Gritfith (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), Dp. 236-243. 38. Raymond Williams argues that the key issue in cultural theory today is the distinction between theory which looks at the work of artasan object and that whic conceives of art as a practice. Raymond Williams, Prob- lems in Materialism and Culture (London: Verso Editions, 1960), p.47. This seems to meto be particularly truein the field of film history.