Al-Ahram: A Diwan of contemporary life (518)
That's entertainment
An entertainment page introduced in Al-Ahram in 1933 was devoted almost entirely to the cinema, local and foreign. Its stories covered movie companies, the transition from silent movies to the talkies and the technology that went into making films. Professor Yunan Labib Rizk traces the rise to prominence of the "seventh art"
In December 1895, the Lumière brothers -- Louis and Auguste -- gave a demonstration of their new invention that would ultimately revolutionise the world of entertainment. The "cinematographe", as they called their device, was a camera that doubled as a projector and that gave its name to the art of cinema. The films they screened marked the official birth of moving pictures.
Although the new art got off to a slow start -- for a long time, films rarely lasted more than a minute or two and focussed on a single subject, generally against a natural landscape -- the new invention quickly fired the imagination of artists and inventors in Britain and Germany. However, it was when it crossed the Atlantic that it gave rise to the famous multimillion-dollar industry with which the Americans invaded the world. It also gave birth to a new constellation: the "stars of the silver screen" who would become household names among audiences around the globe.
On 4 September 1933, Al-Ahram dedicated a full page to the new art form. Although the headline was "Cinema and other entertainment", the article concentrated exclusively on the former. Although the article announced that this was the beginning of a new page in the newspaper that would henceforth appear every Monday, it eventually became an almost daily feature, in response to its popularity as was indicated by a sudden increase in sales.
The series opens with a "brief overview of the history of the cinema". It was not long ago, it observed, that the new art was "ignored and treated with scorn, as is frequently the case with everything new, which takes people by surprise without advance warning or preparation and which is, therefore, greeted with closed minds, indifference or, at best, haphazard approaches to fathoming it, until such time that they develop a taste for the new and learn to appreciate it".
To illustrate, the author of this series, who signed himself "Star", relates that when the famous filmmaker Cecil B De Mille began his career in New York, he was forced to go to the greatest lengths to get an audience together to view his early films, most of which were barely longer than 100 metres. "He would offer any number of enticements to induce students from his neighbourhood to attend his shows, to the extent of allowing half of them in for free. Even so, when they left, they would complain that he had duped them and swindled them out of their money, because they had expected to see something more than those images that made such funny movements."
It was not just the refinement of technology that allowed for the eventual rise to prominence of the "seventh art", but also "the intervention of entrepreneurs who invested vast sums of money in the promotion of the cinema". The first major film company was Vitagraph, which was absorbed several decades later by Warner Bros, under the management of the idiosyncratic director "Woody" Van Dyke. The rapid rise in the popularity of the cinema generated by these companies encouraged another group of entrepreneurs to form the Metro- Goldwyn-Mayer Company "which produced the greatest films ever known in the world of cinema".
The next great boost came with the transition from silent films to talkies, a technological advancement that required an even greater injection of capital. Nevertheless, the returns were enormous, for it enabled the cinema "to assume powerful forms and to explore new avenues of artistic creativity, as a result of which it has captured the imagination of the entire world and risen to the forefront of all other arts and industries in popularity and in profitability".
Sound-on-film did, however, have its detractors. Prime among these was silent screen star Charlie Chaplin. At the time "Cinema and other entertainment" appeared, one American film firm was manoeuvring to reproduce many of Chaplin's silent classics with sound, although Chaplin's would not be the voice audiences would be hearing in the films. "Star" remarks, "If the company succeeds in its bid, this will be a landmark event in the world of cinema. As is well known, Charlie Chaplin is the foremost enemy of the talking picture." Although the popular pantomime artist had received numerous offers to act in talkies, he turned them down, saying, "You have completely distorted the true art of cinema with this horrible innovation. And now you come to me and ask me to take part in this mistake -- indeed -- crime that you are perpetrating against this art. It is the height of audacity for you to make such offers."
The last silent film Chaplin produced appeared two years before Al-Ahram's series on the cinema. This was City Lights in 1931. It would be five years before he produced his next film, Modern Times (1936), by which time he had finally bowed to the irreversible reality of the new technology. However, in the early 1930s, the cinema was still in the process of transition. Of the 61,924 movie houses in the world, "Star" reports, 36,955 were equipped for films with sound. In the US, there were 25,688 cinemas of which 16,707 were equipped for sound and in Europe there were 30,623 cinemas of which 17,822 were equipped for sound.
An interesting footnote here is that "Star" had apparently obtained his statistics from a Western magazine. No mention was made of the entire continent of Africa, let alone Egypt in which there were already quite a few cinemas. In fact, all one had to do was to open Al-Ahram to the "Where to go tonight" column to find listings for Cinema Royale, Fouad, Imperial, Triumphe and Metropole, all of which happened to be featuring either "matinée" or "soirée" screenings of French or English-language films.
In all events, "Star" provided readers with a brief account of the theory behind the new technology: "Sound is airwaves that, when they come into contact with the auditory apparatus, create vibrations the frequency of which varies according to the force of the sound emitted. These airwaves can be captured by a special device that transforms them into an electric current that is used to create electric light, the force of which varies in accordance with the strength of the sound waves. The electric light is then recorded along one side of the film. During the projection, the electric light is transformed once more into sound waves, which pass though a special mechanism that produces them in their original form."
Although the author of the new Al-Ahram column had promised his readers that he would soon present an article on Egyptian cinema, in fact he delegated this task to a certain El-Sayed Hassan Gomaa. Gomaa may well be Egypt's first film critic. Certainly, his article, which appeared in Al-Ahram of 9 September 1933 under the headline, "Egyptian cinema companies" reflects an extensive familiarity with the art and the industry.
Gomaa dates the beginning of the Egyptian cinema to 1927, "when Cairo and Alexandria simultaneously began to produce dramatic films. In Cairo, Aziza Amir founded the Isis Film Company and produced her first film based on the working title, The Call of God, which she later modified and renamed Leila. In Alexandria, Ibrahim and Badr Lama founded Condor Films and created the scenario for A Kiss in the Dark, the first film their company produced."
Although both of these companies claimed credit for launching the Egyptian film industry, Gomaa maintains that their success would not have been possible had not the Oriental Moving Pictures Club and the Mina Film Club laid the initial foundations. Still, he admits that Isis and Condor were the first two cinema companies to produce feature length films. Their pioneering works, moreover, had a profound impact on the artistic climate in Egypt. The Egyptian public, he writes, had long been thirsting for an Egyptian presence on the silver screen, and turned out in droves to see Leila and A Kiss in the Dark. "Suddenly, the public tasted a new form of cinematic art, one strongly imbued with an Egyptian spirit and, thus, a gentleness that was unfamiliar in the European and American films that came to Egypt."
The success of these two films also proved that it was possible to base films on aspects of Egyptian life using Egyptian actors. "Once this idea took hold, many individuals began to embark on the production of Egyptian films," Gomaa observes. And, indeed, the following year, several new films appeared: Ghada of the Desert, Souad the Gypsy Woman, The Sea is Laughing, His Excellency Kishkish Bek and Beneath the Light of the Moon. Among the new cinema companies that sprung up, Gomaa gave special mention to the Ramsis Company, founded by the famous and multi-talented script writer, actor and, later, film star, Youssef Wahbi, whose pilot film was Zeinab. Other companies of note were Nahhas Films, which came out with Song of the Heart, the Fannar Film Company with The Victims and the Egyptian Company for Drama and Cinema, established by Bank Misr and which produced the first Egyptian-made newsreels.
In spite of their initial successes, some of the new Egyptian film companies encountered financial difficulties. Encouraged by the popularity of Leila, Isis films produced two more films: Daughter of the Nile (1930) and I Forgive Your Sins (1933). As in Leila, the star of these films was the company owner, Aziza Amir. Gomaa relates that not only had Amir spent lavishly on her first film, but she capitalised on its success to build a studio for producing silent films, talkies not having yet acquired the popularity to make the necessary investments appear worthwhile. Yet, although the public received her second film as enthusiastically as her first, the profits still did not compensate her for what she spent on the studio and the film. The same applied to Amir's third film, leading the writer to conclude that the concept of setting and sticking to a budget was alien to her, or as he put it, "The owner of Isis Films needs a clever hand, capable of keeping track of expenses and of firm and tight management of her operations."
The experience of Ramsis Films seemed to stand in contrast to Isis. Gomaa notes that the company owner, Youssef Wahbi, neither acted in his first film nor directed it. The director was Mohamed Karim, who had recently returned from Germany where he had just completed his studies in film directing. Wahbi was also encouraged by the success of Zeinab to found the Ramsis Studio for Cinematography.
The following day, "Star" pointed out that as important as Gomaa's article was, he had omitted mention of other film companies. By 1933, Lotus Films, founded by the silent screen star Asia, had produced three box office hits: Ghada of the Desert, A Twinge of Conscience and When a Woman Falls in Love. There was also Condor Films, which had come out with A Kiss in the Dark, Tragedy on the Pyramids and The Miracle of Love. The "Cinema and other entertainment" page editor also reminded readers of the landmark Little Magician, produced by the Institute of Science and Modern Technology in Alexandria and reputed for its record number of special effects.
At the same time, Gomaa's article inspired an Al-Ahram reader to contribute an article entitled, "Local cinema: its virtues and flaws". Describing himself as "an Egyptian cinema fan", Fathi El-Safuri held that one of the worst mistakes in Egyptian cinema was for the cinema company owner to star in his or her own productions. This phenomenon "makes our films appear weak and crude, in spite of the considerable efforts that are put into producing them and lifting them to the ranks of foreign productions". He explains, "It is unreasonable to expect the proprietor of a film to be suitable for the screen. Unfortunately, abundant money and pride have gone to the heads of many, who then cast themselves as the heroes and heroines and imagine that they can become stars such as Greta Garbo and Ramon Novarro."
Among those self-styled film stars were actors and actresses of the stage. It was wrong for these, too, to consider themselves prime material for the screen. El-Safuri writes, "People who have made their career in the theatre are not suited for anything but the theatre. They have devoted their lives to the stage and all their thoughts, energies and hopes have been pinned to it. The only reason that they have appeared in the cinema is because of the novelty of this art in Egypt. Yet, were you to ask any of them whether they were prepared to leave the stage for the screen they would respond, 'Impossible!' This proves that their attachment to the stage is so strong that they could not possibly wrench themselves away from it. In this they are like other professionals who stick to their occupations or crafts because they have grown accustomed to them and have come to earn considerable incomes from their specialised skills."
El-Safuri goes on to observe that some theatre stars had professed a desire to promote both the arts of the theatre and the cinema. However laudable this desire might appear, it was, as he put it, "inappropriate". The ability to specialise in an art was one of the keys to that art's success and advancement. Therefore, theatre people should stick to their specialisation, "since the cinema already has its devotees and since in so doing they will make room in the cinema for their companions in the arts". The "cinema fan" concludes his article by noting that he held great hopes for the future of the Egyptian Cinema Company, all the more so because he felt confident that the founder of Bank Misr, of which this company was a subsidiary, had no aspirations to star in that company's productions.
If the cinema and entertainment page followed the news of international film stars, that was only to be expected. What came as a pleasant surprise is that it also paid considerable attention to the skills and technology involved in this relatively recent art form.
Beneath the headline, "The difficulty in producing films with sound", "Star" informed readers that directors now had to tote enormous extra machinery and equipment "back and forth from one location to another, according to the demands of the scenes and the shooting schedule". He cited an American director who related his experience in shooting even a very short scene. "It took three days to adjust the microphone, and in the interim we spent thousands of dollars on wasted footage because of having to make the actors go over the scenes again until they perfected their lives." The director added, "This business is not as easy as some people make it out to be."
Suddenly, too, actors and actresses were expected to have pleasing voices. "Star" relates that Marlene Dietrich had offered her thanks to God for having given her a voice suitable for speaking in films. She had been afraid that people would say, as they had said about Charlie Chaplin, that she had an ugly voice.
The page editor also published an American magazine article, discussing the problem of echo and how sound technicians tried to overcome this difficulty. It was a particularly time-consuming and costly process, entailing, above all, the construction of shooting studios the walls and floors of which were made of sound proof material. "In addition, actors had to wear specially designed shoes that would not make noise while they walked, and stage designers had to make all furnishings and other props out of materials that would not cause an echo. The wardrobes you see in talking films and the chairs actors sit on are not of the sort that we are accustomed to using in our daily lives."
Another article on the cinema and entertainment page dealt with the double or the stand-in. It bore the headline, "The price of death in the cinema". An airplane goes up in flames in the sky, a horse throws its rider over a cliff, a stampeding herd tramples someone -- such scenes, of course, could not be played by ordinary actors, especially those in the starring roles. The solution was someone to stand in for the actor or actress -- a stuntman. "This substitute is paid not only for playing a dangerous role but also for playing with death. He is, therefore, paid at a very high rate, even though the scene he has to appear in may only require a few minutes of his time. After all, it is not unlikely that that scene may land him for several weeks or months in hospital."
Such was the importance of stand-ins, the article continues, that it developed into a separate art with its own rules and regulations. Indeed, it was now possible to receive special training in how to reduce risk in the performance of stunts. For example, if a scene called for a car to overturn, the double should remove the hand brake and gearshift and loosen the driver's seat. Then he should line the interior of the car with a sponge-like material and ensure that the tank contains no more than half a litre of gasoline. "After such preparations, he can take off at a speed of 40km per hour, perform the 'miracle' of flipping over in a moving car and step out alive and well, as though he had just got off an ordinary job."
Stuntmanship, by that time, had even evolved various specialisations. A certain Bob Miles became famous for his horse riding skills. Indeed, he was so proficient in his art that "with one look at a horse he would know its abilities, and whether it was a race horse or a jumper". Miles was also reputed for being able to perform the most dangerous stunts on horses "without causing injury to himself or the horse".
In spite of the advantages of trained stuntmen, it appears that some directors were not willing to fork out the necessary money. "Star" relates that on one occasion a cinema company refused to accept the terms of a trained stuntman and hired an amateur instead. The amateur ended up in hospital for six months with two broken ribs. The newspaper did not mention who paid the hospital bill.
"Cinema and other entertainment" explored a number of other intriguing subjects, such as special insurance schemes, women in the industry and, not to be ignored, the private lives of the stars.
Not infrequently, actors and actresses built their entire fame around an idiosyncratic feature and were this feature to become somehow affected, their career would be in tatters. Against such a prospect, many actors and actresses took out special insurance policies. One comedy actor, the newspaper reports, had accumulated a fortune on the basis of his crossed eyes. He took out a many-thousand dollar insurance policy against the spectre that "his eyes would become uncrossed as those of ordinary people". Then there was the famous female star who took out a $13,000 policy on the dimple in her cheek when she smiled. A second took out a policy on her famous bow-shaped lips and a third on her hooded eyelids. Charlie Chaplin's insurance policy covered his hobo suit and signature cane.
"Star" was keen to stress that the role of women in the cinema industry extended beyond acting. There were many female scriptwriters and many films were based on novels written by women. "Were I even to attempt to list the names of female authors, I would still find that I had left more names out than I included," he wrote. Nor should readers jump to the conclusion that these women's stories were inevitably impassioned romances. Frankenstein, based on Mary Shelley's famous novel, served to remind readers that the female imagination was just as capable of exploring the realms of thrillers and science fiction as that of men.
Like cinema buffs in the US, "Star" found it curious that many Hollywood stars preferred to remain single. When polled, unmarried actors and actresses offered diverse explanations for their continued bachelorhood. Maureen O'Sullivan of Tarzan the Ape Man fame was reported to have said, "To tell the truth, I'm afraid of marriage. Perhaps because I loved in the past and failed." Whereas Mary Brian, best known at the time of the series for her appearance in the cinema classic The Virginian (1930), responded, "A woman cannot be an actress and a wife at the same time." Of course, such "true confessions" may often be taken with a grain of salt. One suspects, for example, that many actors and actresses spurned marriage for fear of denting their image as elegant and ever youthful idols of the silver screen. Perhaps they had a point.
* The author is a professor of history and head of Al-Ahram History Studies Centre.
