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Posts Tagged ‘George Méliès’

Photo: Shawn Miller. National Audio-Visual Conservation Center.
This print of Gugusse and the Automaton (the first known movie about robots) was a duplicate at least three times removed from the original print and was in extremely delicate condition when it arrived at the Library of Congress.

Reading today’s story, I can’t help thinking that if any of us has items from our great grandfathers (or -mothers), we should make an effort to discover if those things should belong to the world at large. At any rate, it would be interesting to know if any of them have an unexpected value. You still may want to keep handing the treasures down, but I’m sure the great grandson in this article was relieved to offload the responsibility.

The San Francisco Chronicle‘s G. Allen Johnson (via Yahoo) reports that a 19th century movie about robots has just been found.

“The first movie to feature what might be called a robot, not seen in more than a century, has been found,” he writes.

“A copy of Gugusse and the Automaton, an 1897 short made by legendary film pioneer George Méliès, was discovered by a man in Grand Rapids, Mich., in a box of films that had been owned by his great-grandfather. The Library of Congress revealed the find on its blog ‘Timeless: Stories from the Library of Congress, on Thursday, Feb. 26.

” ‘This is one of the collections that makes you realize why you do this,’ said Courtney Holschuh, the archive technician who unraveled the film.

“Méliès (1861-1938) was a French filmmaker whose most famous work, A Trip to the Moon (1902), featured an iconic shot of a space capsule landing in the Moon’s ‘eye.’ Martin Scorsese paid tribute to Méliès in his family film Hugo (2011).

Gugusse and the Automaton, which lasts 45 seconds, is a slapstick comedy that depicts a magician cranking up an automaton – a mechanical contraption – dressed as a clown. Using a large mallet, the magician hammers the automaton (which is played by an actor) into smaller and smaller sizes.

“Because of Méliès’ reputation and its historic significance, Gugusse and the Automaton has long held a fascination with science fiction fans, even though it was considered lost.

“Years after inheriting the box of about 10 films, Bill McFarland drove from Grand Rapids to the Library’s National Audio-Visual Conservation Center in Culpeper, Va., in September to donate the collection.

“His great-grandfather, William Delisle Frisbee, was a western Pennsylvania potato farmer and schoolteacher who moonlighted as a traveling showman, commuting by horse and buggy from town to town to screen some of the world’s first movies.

“After Frisbee died in 1937, the films and his old projectors, as well as his diaries and other papers, were passed down through the generations.

” ‘He talks about full houses, and rowdy houses, and canceled shows, and he went all the way to the Pennsylvania-Maryland line, and I think into Ohio as well,’ McFarland said. ‘He made as much as $20 bucks a night, I see in his records, and sometimes he made $1.35 for the night.’

“Méliès made some 500 short films, but only about 300 survive. Like many lost silent movies, negatives for most of his films were melted down for silver and celluloid during World War I.

“Scorsese’s Film Foundation estimates that more than 90% of films made before 1929 have been lost forever, most due to intentional destruction: In the early days of cinema, film prints were deemed of little value past their original theatrical run. Also, the era’s prints were made of nitrate, which was both perishable and highly flammable.

Gugusse and the Automaton can be viewed in 4K on the Library of Congress’ website.”

More at the San Francisco Chronicle, here. See also a blog the Library of Congress blog, here.

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Photo: Des Moines Register
Michael Zahs, a retired history teacher, saved rare films that date to 1895 and became the subject of the 2017 documentary “Saving Brinton.” 

Did you ever read Hitty, Her First Hundred Years as a child? It’s about a doll who, through various adventures, ends up in the hands of a series of families in the course of a century. It suggests that old treasures bring joy again and again in new circumstances.

It would be lovely to find some rare, lost thing and give it new life. I know that readers like KerryCan and Deb do that all the time. In fact, Deb recently blogged about rescuing smelly old fabrics from oblivion to make a quilt. She likes to think about the former life of each piece as she works.

Suzanne, meanwhile, has been having enormous fun finding and cleaning up vintage lockets, offering resizing and placement of the customer’s family photos to give the lockets meaning for another generation.

Here’s a story about finding old silent film footage in an Iowa barn by Pamela Hutchinson at the Guardian. “Michael Zahs thinks of himself as a saver. ‘I like to save things,’ he says, ‘especially if it looks like they’re too far gone.’ This retired history teacher from Iowa, now in his 70s, has amassed quite a collection over the years: stray animals, farm implements, even a church steeple. …

“Nothing he has saved, however, has been quite as remarkable as the Brinton Collection – a mammoth set of films, lantern slides, posters and projection equipment from the first years of cinema, and even earlier. There are two exciting things about these artifacts. One is that during the more than three decades after Zahs took delivery of the collection and stored it on his property, he has been showing its treasures to local people and keeping the tradition of the travelling showman alive. The second is the discovery that the collection contains very rare material – films by the French cinema pioneer, George Méliès [remember the 2011 movie about his work, Hugo?] that were once thought to be lost.

Saving Brinton, an absorbing new documentary by Andrew Sherburne and Tommy Haines, tells the story of Zahs and the collection he saved. Between 1895 and 1909,one Frank Brinton crossed the Midwest with his wife Indiana and his travelling show, welcoming locals for a ticket price of just a few cents.

“At first he showed magic lantern slides, some of which ‘dissolved’ between two static images to create an illusion of movement. When moving pictures arrived, Brinton jumped aboard, ordering many films from distributors in France, one of the most prolific and creative producers in the early period. …

“Brinton’s programme included trick films such as those by Méliès, which used in-camera special effects to create fantastical spectacles, and many hand-coloured movies where the dye is applied directly to each frame. Projected in the dark, these vivid, bizarre images have lost none of their original impact.

“Everything the Brintons used was passed down through the family until 1981, when it arrived at Zahs’ front door. He packed all the ephemera away into what he calls his ‘Brinton room,’ while the films themselves were sent to the Library of Congress, which duplicated about two-thirds of them, quickly and simply, and sent the 16mm copies back to Zahs. The remaining third they apparently sent back to Zahs through the US mail, in a box labelled ‘explosive.’ Those original nitrate films, which are highly flammable, were stored alongside the 16mm films in a shed. It’s amazing that they survived.

“The 16mm copies were safe to project, and so Zahs did. He started the Brinton film festival in Ainsworth, Iowa (population: about 600), where he would show the slides and the films to audiences that might never otherwise have dreamed of watching a silent film projection.

“It is typical of Zahs’ commitment to not just preserving but sharing history, says Sherburne. ‘That’s how he engages people, by giving them the genuine article, putting it in their hands, or putting it in front of their eyes. It’s his way of transporting them to a different time.’ ”

Read more at the Guardian, here. And do tell me a vintage story of your own.

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